We’re about three hours into skeet shooting season here in the town where I live. I know this because every damn shot makes me jump, and I’ve been jumping a lot today.
It has made writing a challenge today. I can’t focus on any one piece adequately, so I’m hopping around, adding a little here, throwing in a paragraph there, starting something new. My work is edgy today. Slow. Angry.
And I’m shot, if you’ll pardon the pun. I hope I’ll be able to get a few more words in later today, maybe as the sun goes down and the skeets are all dead, but I have more words written than I did at the beginning of the day, and that’s something.
Also, I’m enjoying giving my writing silly working titles.
- Essay: “Pinatas and Glitter Girls” 614 words
- Essay: “Processing the Leftovers” 1051 words
- Essay: “Betty Off-Her-Crocker” 1156…
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