I’m not here to make excuses. Writing hasn’t been going great the last week or so, and I can only blame myself.
I’ve felt more drained than usual lately, leaving the creative art of my brain a sad lump of congealed brain matter. I realize that this is something I need to work through, that just giving in to this is what separates a writer (one who writes) from an author (a writer who publishes). On most days, this excuse depresses me, the knowing I should be writing and yet can’t muster up the strength of commitment to complete the act.
Yesterday, though, I can say it was a welcome excuse to not be writing. Wife and the two oldest daughters had a booth at the Spotsylvania Spectacular 2013 (ie, 4th of July celebration the weekend before) doing face painting, and afterwards we stuck around to watch the fireworks. Loud and disturbing, to young and old ears alike, the show was actually pretty spectacular. Lasting around 30 minutes, it was a wonderful display that had even this jaded old man oh’ing and aw’ing at the show.
By contrast, our typical 4th of July is spent with me at one end of the driveway, lighting some mildly explosive material on fire and then wobbling to get the hose to extinguish it before it brings down the neighborhood in an engulfing ball of colored flame, so already we were ahead of the game. That, combined with the proximity of where I ended up parking ($5 were never so well spent) to where we watched the display meant we got out in relatively short, albeit slow, order.