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| Skunk outside my writing window. |
By Maryanna Gabriel
The truth is, I'm afraid of bears. Okay, let's just say - I have a healthy respect their capabilities. And I certainly can't keep my garbage outdoors, can I? We have garbage collection twice a month and by the time that day comes, I'm fairly panting.
Once, the truck arrived at 7:30 am. Now, I set my alarm.
As a writer, I spend much of my time saying to myself: why am I doing this?; who wants to read it?; is it any good?; am I wasting my time?; and after quite awhile of this and other useless questions and unsupportive commentary, I just get to it and start pounding the keys. It's a strange ritual and a rather odd one, given it is not terriby effective. Much to my surprise, I am working on chapter fourteen.
One morning, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a swift movement. Excuse me? A skunk? Wow. Dorothy, we don't have these back in Kansas. A recent trip to the post office was a little alarming. The place reeked of skunk. Apparently, the mail was sprayed at the dock where the bags are unloaded. So now, it's all over town. I read it takes the skunk days to replenish his olfactory gland so he prefers peace, and only uses his weapon of mass destruction as a last resort. Skunk is powerful medicine in the animal totem deck. But that's not what is making my body zing. And thank goodness for that.
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| Worth zinging about. |
With the nicer weather, I have been drawn to the wilder places (always on the look-out for bears), and I found a most wonderful spot for writing. A Thotful Spot, as Winnie The Pooh would say. It makes my heart and soul zing. The sound of the water is mentally cleansing. Maybe the zing is permeating my writing. At least that's the theory.