Not that I have any chickens. Yet.
I woke up at 3:30 this morning! Not a thing wrong, just done sleeping. I went downstairs, nuked a cup of yesterday’s coffee, and journaled for a while. Now, the sun is painting the rim of the eastern hills a lovely apricot, so I figure I might as well stay up. The show’s already on the road–nothing left to do but participate!
I wrote the prologue of my next western yesterday. It’s called “The Rustler”, and it’s Wyatt’s story. Wyatt is Rowdy’s older brother–Rowdy being the hero of “A Wanted Man”, if you haven’t read it yet. What with losing my dad, and then all the traveling, it’s been a challenge to get this book running, but now I’m on track and the fun part begins. Writing IS fun, or should be, though it’s a lot of work.
I’m debating whether to stay here at the main house or zip out to the lake for a few days. The problem with going to the lake is that I tend to goof off a lot out there. Not necessarily a bad thing, but it doesn’t mix too well with deadlines. I look out at that water and I’m spellbound. I take a lot of naps. I go to Wal-mart too often.
Alas. It’s a tough life, but somebody’s got to do it.