I’m confusing Thursday for Friday

It’s not hard to start confusing what day it is when they all seem to run together.  I pick up one of my grandchildren every Friday, but out of the ordinary, I picked her up today, and now can’t get the idea out of my mind that it’s Friday.

Like Saturday and Sunday, if we do not do the usual things on Saturday, suddenly it feels like it’s just another day of the week.

But since retiring, about four years ago, the days gave sort of been running together in a continuous stream.  As a writer, and not having a day job, or the fact that being a writer is a 24/7 job with no specific delineation, it’s not as if I have to be anywhere between the hours of 9 and 5, nor look forward to the weekend off.

Not any more.

Or perhaps that’s just my interpretation of what a writer’s life is.

Not that I’m being much of a writer at the moment.

There’s writer’s block and there’s laziness.  Me, I’m in the latter basket.  I sit down to write but the truth is I can always find something else to do.  Social media was invented as a distraction for people like me.

But, is there a deeper issue at the heart of my ‘problem’?

I think it’s because I’m not satisfied with one of my stories as it stands.

I finished writing the sixth or seventh draft, didn’t like the way it was reading, and added a new section.  The problem with that is having to go back to the start and seed the threads that lead to and/or incorporate that new section.

It’s just about formed in my mind how it is going to go, but I have not written a word, or looked at the story for at least four months, and that’s probably a good thing.

In between, I have written a number of short stories, most of them in one sitting, as an exercise to clear the cobwebs, much the same as you would take a car out of the motorway and give it its head.

I’ve convinced myself that I still believe in the happy ending, even though all around me there doesn’t seem to be too many.  I have to stop watching the news, and a lot of television shows.  No one really wants to know the gritty reality.

There’s something else I’ve been meaning to do.

So, I’m going to flesh out the second draft of the story with the new ideas and see how that looks.

A long time ago my eldest grandchild asked me to write a story for her.  She was 12 then, acted like a princess, so I told her I would write her as one.  The other two granddaughters, also girls, also wanted to be princesses, and this sparked some interesting discussion.  The eldest is 16 now and I’m still no closer to finishing it, but I have decided to make a map of their realm, and that of the quest involved to save the realm in the hope that will prompt the end.

We used to sit around when they are all together and brainstorm ideas, but as they get older, there is always something else more important to do, like texting their friends on their phones or playing computer games.  Life, it seems, for the young, has more interesting pursuits.

At least, if I ever finish it I will have the three best beta readers going.

Roll on tomorrow, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll get started on that map.

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