Postscripts: The scrambling of pups

I am not a writer who can work in chaos, Gentle Reader, but this morning, I found that very thing happening.

It’s a rainy Monday.  I LOVE rainy days.  I write my best on rainy days, curled up in my home or school office, ready to conquer the day.  I am meant, I think, to live in the Pacific Northwest, or Scotland.  Somewhere where it rains all the time in polite drizzles.  Not the conquering storms of New Orleans.

So this morning, I finished the first chapter of the NEW YA project, NA (initials of the title, not the title itself), to the scrambling of my two pups playing with each other–by “playing” of course I mean “fighting horribly over a bone even though there are six within eyesight”–and rain, and other domestic sounds of dishwashers and washing machines.  I can’t even write with music.  I am best in solitude.  But this morning represented a huge shift, a change, if you will, in my structure.

We shall see where this leads, no?

2 thoughts on “Postscripts: The scrambling of pups”

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