Saturday morning
breakfast: microwave omelet, fresh fruit, and hot tea.
I’m drinking a
perfect cup of tea and eating Saturday breakfast. Like always, Andy made it for
me. Snuggled under a blanket with my laptop balanced on my knees, writing in
the day. No plans for laundry or dusting or meal planning until later, much
later. I’m burying myself in fiction, allowing the characters
to siege my mind.
It’s quiet now, but
not for long. Soon I will open my latest chapter. I will read it aloud and
the characters will wake up. I will listen. They will talk. The words will wrap
around each other, spinning a story. I’m learning to have faith in this
process. To know it takes only a gentle tug on a line, a little nudge from a
thought and the story will spark.
I’m
learning to believe in myself as a storyteller.
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| Vintage Slice |
