Feeling even more betterer, as a child of my acquaintance used to say, after another Nap With Firefly, which Rookie also joined. Lunch was the last of the leftover soup. Grocery store tomorrow. Really.
Back in the comfy office chair, now upgraded to include the laptop.
I have some paperwork to review, which I now feel like I have enough on-board brain cells to understand. I’m not sure the WIP planning went as well as it might have done. I keep going over the same points, and I really need to talk about this with Steve, because there’s only so many times I can ask the air, “What were you thinking?”
Aside from that, I hope no one is offended that I, a Rational 21st Century Woman of moderate education, average intelligence, and rather a lot of life experience speaks of having ghosts in the house. I’m not going to stop, mind you, but I hope I’m not offensive.
I will say a couple of things about ghosts in my life. But before that — you need to understand is that I officially chose magic in my life fifty or so years ago, even though I knew better, and I find I don’t really want to throw in with reality at this stage in the proceedings.
So, ghosts. Steve and I always acknowledged the ghosts of the house, therefore ghosts are not new in my life, nor, perhaps, are they a sign of a compromised intellectual rigor. Our stance was that ghosts were merely . . . facts, if you will. Like the wind. You can call it play — we had a playful life in many ways, having also chosen to be grasshoppers. So, we accepted the ghosts in our various living spaces, and acknowledged their presence. We weren’t afraid — are you afraid of the wind?
Secondly, if this might be a concern — I’m not afraid of my personal ghosts. Certainly, I’m not afraid of Steve, nor of the ghosts of cats. I can postulate a squirrel hitting the roof tiles with more force than intended as the reason for a certain bump in the night, but, indeed, I have a lot of experience hearing cats jumping down, with that particular furry *thump* of landing. It’s a commonplace, even a comforting, sound, if you’ll have it.
If I offend because Ghosts Aren’t Real, well. I’ve spent my whole life consorting with people who “aren’t real,” and I’m afraid I don’t see the distinction.
So, all that to say, I have a rich fantasy life, and am fluent in Metaphor — and that’s worked for me so far.
And all that said — paperwork to read.
Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe. I’ll check in tomorrow.
“So, all that to say, I have a rich fantasy life, and am fluent in Metaphor — and that’s worked for me so far.”
You haven’t lost any writing chops. This defines my life, too.
The ghosts are the least of my worries, after all these years. Almost every place has been haunted, and I have been blessed with kind ghosts.
May you look at the writing problem out of the corner of your eye–and may a new possibility and path reveal itself.