A Foggy Day in Barford ...

Strange start to the day. Low fog on a day that promised sunshine. Somehow matches my mood. Feeling a bit uninspired with myself. One of those "Have I bitten off more than I can chew" days. What do I even know about writing fiction?I know nothing. I am flying by the seat of my pants (trousers), as usual. The D.E.B. and I had a lovely evening last night. Long walk with Lucy, beers at The Granville, then home for "tea" (dinner). D.E.B. so supportive, so encouraging. Wanted to hear all about the new novel idea, my latest conquest, what is sure to be the next, great bestseller. (His words, not mine.)

     

                                                                                                                                                                                                                            I find his love, his faith in me so remarkable. It is so complete, so unconditional, so judgement-free and open. To say that it is "blind faith" sounds a bit negative and naive, and it is so much more than that. And means so much more to me. He believes in my "gifts," more than I do! So, as I sat in the bright, sunny warmth of his faith, I rambled on all night long about my character ideas, my plot line, my narrative twists, etc., etc.  I worked myself into such a lather, I found it hard to sleep! And now, today, this morning, as I sit and stare at my very blank computer screen, thinking to myself, who am I kidding? What on earth am I doing? Or, as the English would say, "What am I playing at?"

Listening to Classic FM, today is the anniversary of the birth of the legendary, phenomenal American composer, George Gershwin. (Wouldn't you just die without Gershwin?)

"A foggy day, in London town, had me low, had me down."

Perfect lyrics from one of my all time favo(u)rite Gershwin tunes. I guess even the great Gershwin had days like this...