If it seems I've been neglecting this blog, I have a very good reason. (Writers always have a very good reason not to write.) I have been busy organizing my life so I can be ready when the nightmare of COVID-19 is past. It does seem, though, that every time I try to get organized and devote myself to writing, all hell breaks loose. It's as if my subconscious doesn't want me to be organized.
First there was my injured foot that had to be kept elevated—that was fun. Then there was my slashed right hand . . . you don't want to know. I got the bloodstain out of the arm of my white sofa, in case you do want to know. Then my computer ran out of WiFi in the middle of Zoom. And so it goes.
Does any of this have anything to do with a blog on writing? Well, actually it does.
First of all, everything that happens to you is grist for the mill—that is, all those painful, alarming, irritating experiences can be useful for a writer. But you knew that. And second, you can never get organized to the point that everything in your life is shipshape in Bristol fashion (look it up). If you keep waiting for complete preparedness before you take the time to sit down to write, you never will.
Am I telling you anything you don't already know? I thought not.