So, I was just lying here this morning, studying my ceiling, my mind drifting as if on an innertube on the Brazos, thinking random thoughts such as how to improve prosthetic limbs, or why psych majors are such zombies at parties, when my focus should have been on writing–particularly about this stalled-out novel and these poor old abandoned blogs.
The group blog Jungle Red Writers floated up, made itself prominent among the surrounding flotsam. If you don’t know this site, it’s always a fun read, and often an informative, useful one. It’s a great blog, I thought, and those are productive, successful writers. At this point, one of the more contrarian members of my mental menagerie piped up with, “Those gals don’t loll around staring at the ceiling and indulging in random woolgathering.”
Which I, obviously and admittedly, do. “True,” I agreed with a sigh as silent as the rest of this conversation. Then my Me fought back with, “Of course they do! They’re writers and random woolgathering is part of the job. An important part.”
Stumped and irritated, the Contrarian turned her back, refusing to speak to me any more.
All of this left me to ponder till I fished this up: It’s also important to recognize when your basket is full of gathered wool and it’s time to get back to the spinning wheel.
Ah.
Thereby hangs a tale. At least I hope so.
To quote Holly Lisle: Onward!