Periodically I am inspired to do better as a writer, and actually write. I know the drill, write regularly, write often, you will get better, form good habits, write the shitty first draft. And still, I have to practically staple my legs to the chair and kick and scream before I can start. Which is stupid, because when I start, the words pour out, and I am reminded again how much I love the craft. And I remember that I am a writer, it is what I am meant to be doing.
Currently there are about ten teenagers in my lounge room (the only living area in my home), on their second day of their Harry Potter Marathon. It is 41.6 degrees outside (feels like 41.7), and I am banished to my study, which is much hotter than the lounge, but I am perfectly happy for this to be happening. My daughter has lovely friends, girls and boys who seem to be supportive of each other, who aren't tearing one another down. Kind kids, who I really like. It hasn't always been this way, and seeing their consideration of one another, it makes my heart sing.
Having said that, 2 days is a long time to host such a big group. Only 2 slept over, but the others arrived from about 11.30 am, and probably won't go home till after 11 tonight. I can't walk around in wet bathers (well, I could, I suppose, but I won't), I can't go to bed at 9pm and sleep. I am going to have the junkiest junk food for dinner (party pies and sausage rolls, last night pizza). But I like that they like to hang out here, even if it isn't the biggest or fanciest house, they just like being together.
This definitely qualifies for shitty first draft status. And also, stream of consciousness. But I've started writing in 2017. Go me.
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