|Read what others wrote.|
|A bit late for October!|
I go to my writing room, stacked full of this and that I have accomplished, or work that I want to finish. This place is cluttered, which is a bit tiring. I focus on the screen of the computer. My search begins for the story document, and the writing starts. Then who shows up is my critic. She is haunting going on and on about this and that, spelling and grammar, what is wrong with this character, and that scene. She becomes a song in the back of my mind as the story unravels. Then the phone rings about a text, I continue to write. My husband comes in my writing space to say what he is doing. My cat comes into humor and calms me. All the while, the story continues to float through my thoughts, and I'm in the middle, watching, and hearing to catch every word.