I've found a way to buy myself a little more time, with regards to finding a job. It's not that John is putting any great pressure on me. It's just that I hate feeling like a kept woman. When I was offered a job at Cowgirls and Lace, I realized that it was going to suck up so much time and energy, that I would probably end up with even less time for writing than before. That thought was so depressing that I just couldn't bring myself to accept the position. Then I found an ad in the paper for a mystery shopper gig, and I thought "Aha! I need to go back to doing contract work. That way I can arrange my own schedule and make it fit around my writing routine." I applied on line and got offered the job the next day. It won't bring in near enough money, but it's a start.
John used to pester me all the time about why I only wrote about Wimberley, and never Houston. Each time I came home telling him some wild story about what was going on at the garden shop where I worked, he'd say "Now that's what you need to write about. People would never believe this shit!" I usually told him that I preferred to write about positive, uplifting things, but the truth was that for some unknown reason, I just couldn't write in Houston - I never felt the urge or inspiration there. That's when I decided that Wimberley must be my muse, but alas, I now see that it was nothing nearly as poetic. It all boils down to the morning paper.
In Houston we always got up at 5:30, fixed our breakfast and sat down with the morning paper. An hour or more later, when John was ready to head out, I was still there reading. With each page, I was sucked more and more out into the world and all its woes. Here in Wimberley, I get up at the same time, but John does not, and there is no daily paper here. So, instead, I go out onto the still, dark porch. There I am able to withdraw inwards, where there is no distraction from my thoughts, and that is when inspiration comes. I do miss those crosswords though.
* * * * *
John used to pester me all the time about why I only wrote about Wimberley, and never Houston. Each time I came home telling him some wild story about what was going on at the garden shop where I worked, he'd say "Now that's what you need to write about. People would never believe this shit!" I usually told him that I preferred to write about positive, uplifting things, but the truth was that for some unknown reason, I just couldn't write in Houston - I never felt the urge or inspiration there. That's when I decided that Wimberley must be my muse, but alas, I now see that it was nothing nearly as poetic. It all boils down to the morning paper.
In Houston we always got up at 5:30, fixed our breakfast and sat down with the morning paper. An hour or more later, when John was ready to head out, I was still there reading. With each page, I was sucked more and more out into the world and all its woes. Here in Wimberley, I get up at the same time, but John does not, and there is no daily paper here. So, instead, I go out onto the still, dark porch. There I am able to withdraw inwards, where there is no distraction from my thoughts, and that is when inspiration comes. I do miss those crosswords though.
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