Honestly the snow is getting ridiculous. Piled everywhere - more drifting. Our house is in the center of a snow globe - and we're not even in Geauga County. This winter I've felt as though I'm wearing cement shoes - and creating stories and characters has been anything but easy. Each step is accompanied by much groaning and pain. My characters are as frozen as the pond on the hill behind our house. Yesterday I managed to get a page finished and then I found myself pulled to the dining room where daughter Susan was going through a box of old pictures - while the grandkids watched Stagecoach (John Wayne) with Papa. How can you not get dragged into looking at pictures of yourself wearing a hat the size of Illinois - Easter 1965.
And pictures of a handsome husband in his Navy uniform on Midway Island in the late 50's. Are those gooney birds at his feet??? Was he good looking or what...And then the faded photos of myself astride beautiful Pearl readying myself to ride out into the wild blue yonder....actually riding down the country road of Cross Creek with soon to be hubby beside me. The pictures don't show the terror in my heart as the horse shot out of the barnyard and down the road. But I quickly learned what the reins were for.
Finally I dragged myself back to the office and sat down to write but the sound of gun shots, wild screaming, and the roar of a racing stagecoach ended that session.
Where can I find a quiet corner in this small ranch house???