Today, I found myself like this.
I’d stayed home from work today. I had a headache and I was a bit stressed out about getting my next chapter finished by Tuesday. In short, I wasn’t feeling too good (by my own standards), and I stayed home, and remained in bed.
I didn’t even pull back the curtains to let the daylight in.
Eventually I did get up though, and I got going on my writing. I sat out in the living room, which was full of light and music (Grateful Dead), tapping away at my laptop when it eventually ran out of cream.
So I’m back in my bedroom, sitting on the floor, with the laptop plugged in and sitting on my old sofa table. I decided that rather than pulling back the curtains I’d just light some candles. It’d be like back in winter, when I sat here almost every night, with candles lit, writing.
It feels good to be back there, even if I’m just pretending. After al, it’s barely five in the afternoon and it’s the middle of summer.
This works though. My story takes place in the dark of winter and there’s a lot of firelight in the scenery (don’t worry, nothing and no one is going to burn down, or up).