PRICKLY PRIVATELY PALMER

Salud, Kids!

You know how some days are just one of THOSE days?

Yeah, today is one of THOSE.

Quite frequently I refer to this as me feeling like a prickly-pear. A day that is annoying and cranky-inducing as I have utterly lost control of the situation. The situation being concentrating on writing.

Attempting to move my fictional creation, Privately Palmer, along has been, um, IMPOSSIBLE.

It is not that I need absolute silence or things such as that. A modicum of peace would be EXTREMELY helpful.

Here is a sampling of my silly frustrations (some remain private...like Palmer):

#Lawn service guys arrived at 7:45 am and began trimming shrubs. Loud and then some.

#Lawn service guys trimmed shrubs until 3:00 pm.

#Animal types DEMANDED unusual amounts of attention and would NOT be put off until later.

#The shrubs were trimmed a ridiculous amount (yes I am grateful to have folks do this service, but they went way too far) and now look beyond skimpy. I liked 'em beter shaggy.

#Animal type lounged and frolicked in a basket of clean and folded clothing which now must be returned to the laundry (yes, my fault as I should have promptly put them away...now, where IS that sword?).

#Foam core with precisely organized notes kept falling and notes dropping off.

See what I mean? Nothing major, just minor annoyances I am ALLOWING to distract me.

Perhaps the universe is simply slapping me in the face and shouting that the world does NOT need another potentially fabulousecharacter thrown into the fictional arena.

Probably, but I refuse to accept that scenario, so I will see if I am able to corral my concentration and compose dialogue at a later time. Doubtful, but I once heard that Danielle Steele wrote her first novel late at night/early morning in the bathroom, on a yellow-pad after her nine or ninety kiddies had drifted into dreamland.

True? I have no idea, but if I have to resort to writing in the bathroom, I'm hauling in a recliner with wooden arms and a loaded mini-fridge. I'm more than willing to pay a bunch of dues (haven't I already done that?) and all, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna write while sitting on the side of the bathtub or worse! Then again, it worked out splendidly for Di. Hm.

See ya 'round the beaches-real or virtual.
Read me fictionally, The Bainbridges of the Palm Beaches, Barnes & Noble, eBooks!