By Maryanna Gabriel
“There are
three rules for writing the novel.
Unfortunately, no one knows what they are.”
- W. Somerset Maugham
The first order of the day was filling the hummingbird feeder. This weather is so hard for them. I am madly preparing for an intense week at school. Yesterday, I stepped out the door to a good day and scampered to the store knowing the white
stuff was coming. The last time I shopped, the soy milk was sold out, and this time there was no spinach. A friend of mine said she got the last cabbage. Social distancing at the register was challenging. Salt Spring Islanders were stocking up.
It seems like there has been more of everything. More sun, more drought, more rain, more cold, more snow. My power is fluctuating this morning. Then there is more of that, you know, that thing about people getting sick as I get news of outbreaks on the island. Not that we are seeing much of one another. That would be the less part. Less interaction, definitely less swimming, less walking (ice).
Am making soup today and working on an assignment that is important. I have two interviews with book agents next week. Yikes.
