Worked again on a cloudy, very rainy day. By late in the afternoon, I heard the shouts and laughter of children running off the soccer fields, seeking shelter from a torrential downpour. I drove home through these downpours and never did make it to the park I planned to walk. The skies cleared by early evening. I took a quick walk around the apartment complex, twice, and caught a beautiful sunset before we went out to dinner. I informed my husband I was not cooking. He was up for a night out, too.
More of the same–rain, thunder, lightening. But I worked at home writing. Or trying to write. Battling myself and my self-doubt. Am I writing in obscurity? What am I doing? Is this going anywhere? How do I end book two? Why have I jumped to book three? Need to turn off the critics and the Debbie Downers, follow the positive feedback. Walked the neighborhood again. Another sunset painted the evening sky. This rain needs to stop, I am not good at routine. I have 340 days to go. Variety and change are my motivators, so something better give.