So, yesterday was an absolutely fantastic writing period for me. When I looked at the clock and saw that four hours had passed since my last look and that now it was 2 AM, only then did I become tired.
I liked the work that I had accomplished. In a nutshell, I was quite proud of my forward progress. I was in the flow.
I woke up this morning, thinking that since I had nothing on my calendar other than more writing, I’d go ahead at take time to meet with a group of writers, members of the Mid-Michigan Romance Writers of America (MMRWA), a chapter I had once belonged. I’d been on their website recently and remembered they were meeting in my area on Saturday, so I got ready.
I didn’t eat breakfast early, so not wanting to destroy my appetite for the lunch meeting, I nibbled on a piece of fruit, telling myself I could wait an hour. The hour came and went and I found myself not leaving the house until the meeting would have been started.
Anyone who knows me knows that I hate to be late. I’m a planner. I prepare. In this case, I was dealing with something I could stop until I saw its end, so I resolved myself to being late. It could be worse, I told myself. Besides, the drive wasn’t that long.
So, I arrived at the restaurant, twenty minutes late. I was surprised to see so few cars in the parking lot. I knew by looking at the website that only four members had said that they would be there, so I figured that there probably weren’t going to be many inside.
I went inside and told the two waitresses, who were standing at the door, that I wanted to join the writer’s group that was there. They looked at each other as if questioning.
“Writer’s group?” one said.
“Yes, they’re supposed to be meeting here at 11:30.”
They moved in unison toward the reservation book. One gal’s nicely manicured finger slid down the mostly empty page until she got to 6:00 p.m. “The first group we have today is tonight.”
I groaned. “Oh, don’t tell me I’m here on the wrong day. How about next week?”
Pages were flipped.
Sure enough, there it was. MMRWA 11:30.
“So, what’s the date today?” I asked.
“Not the 17th,” I said.
“Gee,” I said. “I just gained a week!”
“It could be worse. You could have lost a week.”
I left them with, “I’ll be our secret, okay?” They laughed.
As I walked out, I was naturally disappointed that 1) I wasn’t going to be inspired by a group of extremely inspiration writers, and 2) that I wasn’t going to be having lunch that day at that restaurant. Well, I could have, but then my appetite for the menu would have been spoiled by being there again next week. I preferred to wait.
So, what’s plan B, I thought, while getting into the car.
Why not go home and — oh, gee, I don’t know – WRITE?!
Having an entire weekend, free of commitments, to do nothing but write? Yes, I have a website that needs updating, and I do need to start on that academic book proposal that my oldest daughter and I are planning to submit soon, but –
Oh, stop! Just go with it! Now’s the time to play, have fun, work on one of those bigger projects that you keeping telling everyone you’re going to finish. FINISH the blasted thing so we can stop hearing it say, “ME, ME, ME” all the time.
Lookey there. I’ve got a plan.