Except this weekend. Aside from writing these words to you today, I have not written a single word since Friday evening.
Of course, there were some laundry and things to do, but I took my iPad everywhere with me when I left the house. Even took it to bed to read, while my husband was asleep next to me. Unlike my Kindle, I can read the iPad in the dark, so as not to disturb Francois' sleep. No need for both of us to lose sleep over a book.
I really liked the stories I read (I am busy reading an anthology, entitled Alphas Love Curves) and still have to finish the last one.
The good story I was referring to, is The Longest Ride by Nicholas Sparks. Another thing I don't usually do: watch TV. Which I did this afternoon, to watch the movie version of this story.
Being a writer also makes me watch a movie with different eyes. When that started happening I cannot say for sure, but it is as if I am more aware - more aware of the elements of good story telling: characters, conflict, tension, etc.
But it also makes me appreciate a good story more too. I wasn't wearing my glasses at the start of the movie so I had to stand fairly close to the TV so I could see what was going on. I think I stood there for about an hour before I rushed off to get my glasses to sit and watch the rest of it. My back had been hurting the whole day so standing wasn't a chore. But standing still for such a long time wasn't helping.
But I couldn't leave. I had to know what was going to happen next. Only when my back hurt too much, did I find my glasses.
And that is what a good story should be, don't you think? Captivating. It should hold the attention of the viewer, or reader, to the extent that only physical pain or discomfort forced you to do something else.
While The Longest Ride did not involve car chases or high action drama, the story was human, bull riding scenes notwithstanding. It felt real. I cried, dammit!
And yet, when it was over it was as if I had gained something too. Something beautiful had existed in my busy life for an hour and a half. Maybe I had a moment of transformation. Maybe I came away thinking that there is still a place for something akin to hope and joy in this ugly, violent and greedy world of ours.
Maybe I am being wistful or foolish. Then again, why not?
While I was ahead of my word count target on my Camp NaNoWriMo project, that advantage has shrunk quite a bit. So back to the computer for a few hundred words tonight.
May your week ahead be filled with joy and beauty everywhere you look.