I wrote tonight.
That, I know, should scarcely merit a post. After all, I'm a writer.
I'm a writer who works outside the home a minimum of 9 hours a day, usually more, plus close to two hours of car commuting on a good day--and both yesterday and today were not good days in the wonderful world of navigating the highways of Massachusetts. Yesterday we had snow that turned to freezing rain and was a terrible mess. Today...the roads were dry in the morning and merely wet tonight, but things were still slow.
Days when I leave the house before 7 AM and get home at 7 PM make me inclined to have a Scotch and curl up with a good book. I even have a good book awaiting a few hours to read it (Side Jobs, a collection of Jim Butcher shorts in the Harry Dresden universe).
But I wrote instead. Not a lot, and more roughly than on a better day. But I wrote. I also paid bills and did some promo, but what matters most to my heart is I wrote.
And that makes all the difference in the world.
Time to tip over now.
(PS: There were no actual fireworks tonight--I took that picture at the Jaffrey Fireworks Festival last summer--but it expresses how gleeful I feel to finally write again._