RedHotRomance

Butt in chair, fingers on keyboard. That's probably the most important lesson I've ever learned about finishing a book, and the one I have the hardest time following. It's amazing how often life conspires to keep my butt out of the chair and my fingers busy doing something else. Yesterday started out with great intentions. I'd written well on Saturday and my story moved along beautifully. Sunday started with the same flow. Then all of a sudden, my muse made the horrible mistake of looking out the window and she was seduced by the view. My office here in Cobb is on the top floor of the house with a view of a mixed pine and oak forest. This time of year, the oaks are dark gold and bright, brassy yellow, the pines a glorious dark green (I would say "forest green," but it somehow sounds redundant...) and the sky a perfect cerulean blue. Obviously, it was too much. The next thing I knew, my muse had deserted me. I figured she'd probably gone for a walk, so of course I took Rufus the ever-faithful lap dog and went looking for her. I will admit, the mile loop I took was well worth the break. I visited with a neighbor on the way home who was busy painting trim on her house, which reminded me of the gallon of dark gold paint sitting in my front room. After lunch, I painted the accent wall I've been wanting to paint, fixed dinner, puttered, and avoided going up stairs.

Butt was NOT in chair, fingers NOT on keyboard. Next chapter did NOT get written. Sometimes it's impossible to drag myself away from my writing. Other days, a team of horses can't drag me to it...today I head down the hill to the other house and hope to write this afternoon. The view there isn't nearly so seductive...though I haven't walked in the vineyard for a long time...