As I mentioned, I use this blog to kick off my writing. It serves as the pressure-free blank page, and wakes my mind up gently. It’s actually doing quite well at its job.
Of course, there are exceptions. Yesterday I went for a hike in Golden Gate Park with the Boonie dog. I brought my computer so that I could find a nice shady spot with a me-shaped depression at the base of a tree. There are a lot more of those me-shaped spots than you would think.
I found a perfect tree and, since I was off-line, opened up my old Writing Journal .doc file to get started, as well as my WIP. The WIP (a fun story about trolls that I’m having trouble ending) was never touched. Somehow my “here’s where I am, this is what I’m thinking” blog post turned into a very dark story about an urban park that has become street-wise and eats little chihuahuas.
I suppose that’s not a pitfall, since my only intent that day was to write a story, and I did, in fact, write a story, but it still feels like I cheated somehow.
I am now seated in my back yard garden, enjoying the shade and the jasmine. I will now move directly to my WIP, with no fun and horrific detours along the way. Thank you, nothing more to see here.
America, The Strange 
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