Almost done with work. Expecting a phone call at some point for me to explain something for work. I've been writing all day, and free to do so (snow day work from home ftw).
I wrote in some blogs - and that's where I think the problem lies of why I'm so scatterbrained. I have so many outlets for creativity that my fractured brain looks at them all and says, "You must put something here." "You must put something there." Must I? Must I really do something daily?
My daily words should be the only necessary blog, and it's there where I'm starting to freeze up. I can't come up with a long story. They're short scenes and bits and pieces, parts of conversation, snippets of description. I have people who read that blog and they're expecting a story. Not scraps.
So my brain gets pulled a hundred different ways, creativity-wise. Once I go back to my real job then my brain will get pulled that way too, in other creative ways.
I wrote about my job for eight minutes and deleted it all. So I'm adding 8 minutes to the timer.
It's almost twilight already. My cellar is lit by this computer only. I look outside and see everything is white: my driveway is white stripes where the snow blower missed some of the white snow; my garage doors are white. The roof of my garage and its carport is white. The sky is white.
Yet I look out the other window and the sky is pink as the sun goes down across the street.
It will be warm tomorrow.
4:48 (got distracted by phone)