…and we’re back…
Coffee in hand, I’m at the keyboard again. Yesterday, Tuesday, I said in my post that I was still bereft of words. Well, the stars shifted somewhere around noon, and during my nap I got a story idea. I sat down to write it.
500 words later – a full page in 12 point Times New Roman – I’ve got this neato short story called Main Four that’s about three guys. A Sci-Fi piece, it fits on a single page: nice and tight. It’s just a simple little story but Jim says it’s one of the best I’ve ever written. That was praise I needed to hear.
I suppose the best part is, the words are back. This time the depression lasted two weeks – but then I don’t know how much was depression and how much was left-over bad feelings about Sherry. And how much was fear about money and the budget. I seem to be out of that mess right now. I’m not knocking it. I’m just gonna go with it.
Market Day is Saturday and I gotta be “up” for that. Can’t do a merchandising day when depressed. Just won’t work. Or, it’d work, but I’d be so morose I’d probably drive people away. So, I gotta be up. I’m just real glad I haven’t been in the toilet when one of the previous days has come up.
My concern – not worry – is that I’ll have a depression full on when there’s a Market Day in October, November, or December. That wouldn’t do at all. But I’d have to go to the show, anyway. Paying one’s money, means showing up. And if I don’t show up, I don’t have a chance to sell books.
I’ve decided to do Market Day the rest of this year. See if I actually make enough money to cover my expenses. If so, I’ll do next year. If not, who knows? Maybe I’ll do next year ANYWAY. That’d be a new one for me – to do something extroverted like this show.
It’s now 5:30 a.m. and I’ve been up since 4. Seems strange to be getting up in the “middle of the night.” But then, I’m sleeping odd hours. May as well make the most of the dead silence.
Ran the budget again last night and realized I may have enough money to get by without squeaking. If expenses stay pretty much the same, I’ll be okay. I’m working at getting all the bills to be static, by averaging out the year’s costs, then paying that average each month. The electric bill is like that: they take a year’s worth of bills and just deduct that average from the account each month. Right now it’s $114. I expect that next year’s deduction won’t be as high, because I’m using so much less juice – and Sherry’s oxygen separator isn’t chugging along in the bedroom, nor is the TV always on. Actually, the TV’s at the nursing home. That’s a relief. It’s quiet here.
I have come to realize just how much I crave silence. I have these 30 CDs of beautiful music from Real Music - all spacey-floaty “spa” music that I love. I’ve loaded a dozen albums onto this computer, to play when I’m writing or playing games.
I don’t play them. I’d rather have the silence. The recliner in the living room is now usable for the first time in years, because the TV in Sherry’s bedroom is gone. In a linear-hallway trailer, sound carries – a long way, loudly. Before, when she was still walking, I could sit in the recliner because she was in her recliner, next to me. Then she fell and took to bed, and the damn boob tube was always on. No rest in the recliner.
Now that she’s gone, I got silence. I can sit in there and read. That’s a miracle. It’s deeply appreciated.
Time to go see about writing. Maybe add on to the Main Four story, who knows?
500 words later – a full page in 12 point Times New Roman – I’ve got this neato short story called Main Four that’s about three guys. A Sci-Fi piece, it fits on a single page: nice and tight. It’s just a simple little story but Jim says it’s one of the best I’ve ever written. That was praise I needed to hear.
I suppose the best part is, the words are back. This time the depression lasted two weeks – but then I don’t know how much was depression and how much was left-over bad feelings about Sherry. And how much was fear about money and the budget. I seem to be out of that mess right now. I’m not knocking it. I’m just gonna go with it.
Market Day is Saturday and I gotta be “up” for that. Can’t do a merchandising day when depressed. Just won’t work. Or, it’d work, but I’d be so morose I’d probably drive people away. So, I gotta be up. I’m just real glad I haven’t been in the toilet when one of the previous days has come up.
My concern – not worry – is that I’ll have a depression full on when there’s a Market Day in October, November, or December. That wouldn’t do at all. But I’d have to go to the show, anyway. Paying one’s money, means showing up. And if I don’t show up, I don’t have a chance to sell books.
I’ve decided to do Market Day the rest of this year. See if I actually make enough money to cover my expenses. If so, I’ll do next year. If not, who knows? Maybe I’ll do next year ANYWAY. That’d be a new one for me – to do something extroverted like this show.
It’s now 5:30 a.m. and I’ve been up since 4. Seems strange to be getting up in the “middle of the night.” But then, I’m sleeping odd hours. May as well make the most of the dead silence.
Ran the budget again last night and realized I may have enough money to get by without squeaking. If expenses stay pretty much the same, I’ll be okay. I’m working at getting all the bills to be static, by averaging out the year’s costs, then paying that average each month. The electric bill is like that: they take a year’s worth of bills and just deduct that average from the account each month. Right now it’s $114. I expect that next year’s deduction won’t be as high, because I’m using so much less juice – and Sherry’s oxygen separator isn’t chugging along in the bedroom, nor is the TV always on. Actually, the TV’s at the nursing home. That’s a relief. It’s quiet here.
I have come to realize just how much I crave silence. I have these 30 CDs of beautiful music from Real Music - all spacey-floaty “spa” music that I love. I’ve loaded a dozen albums onto this computer, to play when I’m writing or playing games.
I don’t play them. I’d rather have the silence. The recliner in the living room is now usable for the first time in years, because the TV in Sherry’s bedroom is gone. In a linear-hallway trailer, sound carries – a long way, loudly. Before, when she was still walking, I could sit in the recliner because she was in her recliner, next to me. Then she fell and took to bed, and the damn boob tube was always on. No rest in the recliner.
Now that she’s gone, I got silence. I can sit in there and read. That’s a miracle. It’s deeply appreciated.
Time to go see about writing. Maybe add on to the Main Four story, who knows?
posted by For The Trees | 4:47 AM
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