where the writers are
The Writing Day

Pouring rain all day long, fat, wormy drops slathering all surfaces, sneaking into new places as leaks sprout down at the Beanery, and spreading flood warnings across the valley.

"Dreary weather," my wife proclaimed, arms crossed, peering out the front office window.  

Mid afternoon darkness holds.  The streetlights are on.  Most cars have headlights on but a few travel without them, furry shadows through curtains of rain.  The wind ruled the night and morning, the leading edge of The Pineapple Express running through our area, where we're supposed to get three inches of rain in two days.  

I worry about friends in low lying areas but damn, the writing day is going so well. Wrote and wrote, and then wrote some more, naming the two nameless stories of yesterday - "Sunlight Through The Moonlit Window" and "Seeing Me Seeing You".  Wrote the final paragraphs of the latter but need a few more filler paragraphs.  I saw where it was going and then leaped ahead to where it would be, capturing the end as it sprang into my mind.  It's a short story, about 2,000 words.  

"Sunlight Through the Moonlit Window" is longer and more complicated.  The end hasn't come into view  yet.  I see many ways of how it could go.  The writing to this point has been a lot of fun.  Twenty-five hundred words are done.  That might be a little more than half.  That's what my writer sense tells me.  Of course, the writer sense isn't infallible.  

Hate to have the writing day stop but once again, my coffee is cold and my ass is asleep.  That seems to be my nature's way of advising me to stop. 

There's more to write.  Maybe I'll continue later, after I wake my ass up.

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