One More Down

Whew, the last remnants of wrapping paper are put away, along with the tree, ornaments and lights. No one would ever know that Christmas came and went here, except for the fattening goodies left over. I caught a glimpse of myself on the video taken at my son's house, and I vowed I wasn't going to eat anymore fattening crap...so why is there chocolate under my fingernail???

Yep...once the gifts are gone the tree comes down. My sister "undecked the halls" this year, so I guess it's a shared sadness to stare at the void left when all the colorful presents have been bestowed. I always feel a emptiness on December 26th, but as fast as time is flying by, I have no doubt that Christmas will be back much sooner than I anticipate. What is it about life after 50 that makes time passage triple? I remember when I couldn't wait to be twenty-one. What was I thinking?

It's 4:30 a.m. here, on December 27th. So why am I awake? I've been working hard to finish Odessa so I can move on to First Degree Innocence, so I can then finish Shortcomings, then finally get to The Locket. I get so frustrated at having so many works-in-progress, but as someone said, "that's the way I roll." Odessa has finally revealed how her story ends, so all I have to do is write the final chapter then add a few things here and there and I'm done.

So, to answer the question about why I'm up... around three A.M. I awoke to another strange voice. *she says, rolling her eyes* Some handsome fellow, late thirties, ex-basketball player showed up in my bedroom, shook me awake with his incessant dribbling, and demanded I tell his story.

OMG! F*ck! I know I wanted to write, but where's the door to stop these intruders for a while? My head has become a revolving door in a constant spin. I'm going no where with all these partially completed manuscripts. I need to finish First Degree Innocence because I know THIS is the one that's going to make my final goal a reality. (Trying out the positive outlook for the New Year.)

So, I tured over and tried to go back to sleep, but Sam, as I now know his name, dragged Randy Littlefield and his mother Sheila into my room, and after the trio nagged me for another half hour, I decided to get up and at least start the damn story. I guess I should be pleased that I'm not suffering a drought of ideas as some are, so I can add, On the Rebound,to my WIP lineup. Woo Hoo! *she says, sarcastically* One of these years I'm gonna celebrate some new releases.

You know what amazes me? I detest basketball, know nothing about it, yet in the first paragraph I used the term "point guard", then had to look it up and see what the heck it meant. Tell me my characters don't write these stories??? Well, actually, they TELL me the stories, so I can type them and SHOW them to my readers.

If I can just find a way to lock my mind to stop the constant influx, I might just get something accomplished. I'm starting to fear sleep...I can't take anymore voices in my head!!!