Say It With Flowers

I'm the eternal optimist. I planted my planters Friday, just to give the front of the house a spring makeover. I wanted to see something yellow other than a dandelion in my front yard now that the daffodils are gone. I'm willing to take the risk that we might have another frosty morning, and have blankets on standby, just in case.

I wish I could be equally optimistic about my writing these days, as well. My submissions so far this year have been meager, indeed. Instead of composing anything new, I've been browsing through my "orphanage," revising and resubmitting older stories. It's not as if I don't have any ideas for new stories...I do. It's just that I'm not getting started on them. Or if I do bang out the first line or two, I stall. I remember I have to yank some of those pesky dandelions, or take a break to do some of the exercises my physical therapists have been suggesting for what might be sciatica, a spinal misalignment, or a herniated disc pressing on a nerve. Or maybe I have to check out more reviews of Cheryl Strayed's Wild, since I'm facilitating a discussion of it this next Thursday at my Colville book group.

Or should I take Tsunami on another walk since in her old age she's getting too stubborn to go into the backyard on her own to take care of her personal business? Oh, wait, I need to sweep the side deck, since last week's 50 mph winds left it full of pine cones, grizzled leaves and dust.

Whoops...I've gotta take a few minutes to work on some publicity for some local efforts. Or since the dogs are getting me up at sunrise which now arrives at 5:15 a.m., maybe it's time to take a nap?

You get the picture. It's not attention deficit disorder. It's spring fever, and it happens to me at this time every year. I start out in spring with great expectations for getting so much writing done...and then run into a wall.

So it's Cinco de Mayo, and I've got all week to finish the stories I'm working on. It's sunny, and you can't always count on that here. It looks like a good day to put the stalled story aside, and sit outside in one of the Adirondack chairs with a mystery set in Paris, Cara Black's Murder in the Marais...and a margarita.

That's where I'm heading in a few minutes, after I finish the edits on the orphan that I've got a new potential home in mind for. I'm an eternal optimist...I can start that new story tomorrow.