It was a dark and stormy night … no really! It made me think of the Bulwer-Lytton Writing contest, which is a contest for the worst written opening sentence-usually 50-60 words.
The contest offers a small pittance to the winners and has become an anomaly in writer’s circles.
Shoveling snow, groaning garage doors, and lows deep in the minus thirties to accompany the drifting snow. The wind chill was minus 51 Celsius yesterday morning. How I spent twelve years north of the 60th parallel is beyond me. Seems my energy is at an all time low to match the temperatures and I need rest. I believe I am safe and protected, I will be warm eventually … and that things will turn out all right.
The only warming thought I’ve had is that I am a pro again. (happy dance!) Guaranteed when you fixate on things that are not coming together, my OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) rises up. Oh well, thanks to the ‘team’ for sorting through this for me! I can now blog on.
I should have gone to bed hours ago. Instead I have been burning the midnight oil, accomplishing nothing in particular.
I am taking stock, which will decide my plan of action. Rapid change propels me headlong into the unknown. Where the energy will come for this evades me at the present moment.