a life for itself
Writer, et. al.
And another late night writing adventure. I was going to be hitting the road in the late evening, so the plan was to write in the early evening. That didn’t happen. I only got around to transcribing a journal entry I’d written in my paper notebook. That, obviously didn’t count. So, after I got to my destination after a 2 ½ hour drive, I took out ye olde Chromebook and put fingers to keys, keystrokes to word processor.
Another late night. I started writing as soon as the football game went off. I wish I’d been able to go down to the ballpark. I haven’t been to a Monday night game since 2011 vs. the Jets. That was a fun game and a wonderful night. I still had fun reading and writing tonight, though. That’s always fun.
The plan was to work on one of my other works in progress currently in need of words. I keep notes and printed copies of all the essays comprising that project in a binder. I was flipping through those notes and all the many questions I asked of each essay, when I got the idea of writing about my first times ever being on stage. I’d written around those times in Intro to Theatre in a couple of the other essays I wrote this month, so I figured it might be a good idea to write directly about them. And so I did. I’ll be continuing tomorrow as I didn’t get as far into the story as I wanted to before I needed to quit so I could get some sleep.
Not nearly as late as last night, or in fact, most of the more recent nights. Plus, given what time I got up today, I wrote quite early.
Late. Late. Late.
Okay, so I’m fully into the habit of writing late. Happy Thanksgiving if you celebrated. I celebrated by writing.