Currently eating a delicious selection of fruits (bananas and seasonal feijoas) with my morning toast, covered in slatherings of organic blackberry jam. All this amazingness, served alongside a fresh cup of coffee with honey, almost makes up for the night I suffered last. It was rough. It was difficult. I came very close to violent hysterics. Twice. But I got through, then I slept, then I got up, and now - I eat.
I am currently dog-sitting two white fluffy dogs for my partner's mother while she is recovering from a cardiovascular procedure from last week. Yes, yes. They are cute. Whatever. It doesn't make up for the fact that they have a psychic ability to sense whenever I pick up my pen and attempt to work on any of my badly neglected fiction.
I have a portfolio due for submission at university by the end of the month. That might seem a lot of time to submit two 5000 word stories, but it isn't. Not when you included it alongside the other myriad of exams and essays I've got to write as well. So last night I pick up my notepad and start jotting down a flurry of ideas for one of the stories in question I've decided to submit. It's got everything I love in a short story: dark magic, transforming animals, men who juggle balls, etc.
But what happens?
Yep, that's right.
Bark. Bark. Bark.
Joel gets up, wanders to check on dogs, then goes back to bed.
Bark. Bark. Bark.
Joel sighs and gets up, wanders to check on dogs, glares at them and goes back to bed.
Bark! Bark! Bark!
Joel growls and gets up, wanders to check on dogs, yells at them, then goes back to bed again.
Bark Bark Bark Bark!!!
Joel gives up on story and brings the dogs to sleep with him.
Today, with the magical power of a second cup of coffee and a visualization in my mind's eye that I am a non-violent person, somewhat like Buddha, I continue on my dog-sitting adventures and desperately try to write 'the next great new zealand story'. Wish me luck.
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