Thank you for comments in various places about last night’s post.
Another touch of the groundhogs today, which I spent reading magazines, failing at the quick crossword in the current New Scientist (always harder than the cryptic) and trying to write. The subconscious didn’t kick in today and the produce from the word mines has been meagre. Usually this means that I’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere in the narrative and I just need to step back a bit and apply a correction. I have a gut feel I may have pushed the story along a bit too quickly and need to go back and built it out somewhat to add texture.
I haven’t done much else today to be honest; a lot of days right now feel like winter Sunday afternoons in the nineteen-sixties. The sky today was monochromatic, and we have warnings out for Storm Christoph, which looks set to have most impact a long way south of us, though we’ll likely be on the fringes of it. All of that has given today a kind of ‘in-between’ quality.
Of course I’m whining here. People are still getting sick or going into hospital or dying in appalling numbers and the worst I have it is that I’m sitting in front of a laptop moaning about the weather.
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Music: I put on a new-ish cd this afternoon, a compilation of four albums by Harold Land, and was struck by the guitar playing on one of them. I shouldn’t have been surprised–I checked the credits and it was Wes Montgomery. West Coast Blues.
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