‘Oh! Darkly, deeply, beautifully blue.

I haven’t done any revision for a week.  I am a disgrace to the brotherhood of writers.

The days it’s Antarctic blue, and clear as far as the galaxy’s end, why would one want to sit inside tapping away on a computer?  And I ask, does this mean I am not really as dedicated to my writing as I should be?

‘If the sight of blue skies fills you with joy, if the simplest things of nature have a message that you understand, rejoice, for your soul is alive.’  Eleanora Duse.

I crave the outdoors.  I suffer periodic bouts of cabin-fever and if there is any sun, I will make sure I am outside soaking up as much Vit D as I can.  And yes, I do take care with skin-cancers as I am a fair-skinned person.  But last winter it rained day in, day out until we debated building an ark on the farm.  The days were perennially grey and it was thus easier to sit inside and write.  This winter is remarkable for its blue skies, its lack of wind and for the occasional spikes of mild days.

My feeling is this: I’m rapidly speeding toward my 60th birthday, a thought that makes next year a little daunting.  Eventually I’ll spend more and more time inside as the vagaries of age stiffen limbs and muscles and halve my energy reserves.  In the meantime, I have to grab every little chance to live a lot.

So how to be dedicated to my manuscripts and my characters?

There are times where I miss them so much, it’s like craving chocolate and I’ll obsessively write and revise as if I am turbo-charged.  Thus, somehow, I need to find a balance.  It may be merely that revision is hardly the fun stuff.  It can be tedious, boring, lacking in creative drive.  I know when I am working on the first draft of something, I can’t wait to sit down and let the hours fly beneath my fingers as they tap, tap, tap.  Because I want to find out where the story is going.

But revision?  Gad!  This is a revising year and must be given due diligence because this is what sorts the mutton from the lamb.  I promise that I shall do my homework tomorrow, as required . . . but . . . (whispers) it sort of depends on the weather forecast.

‘Oh!  Darkly, deeply, beautifully blue.  As someone somewhere sings about the sky.’ Lord Byron (I love that Byron has no qualms about using adverbs).