The days just keep getting longer, making it harder and harder to think straight and I should really just let it go. It's hard to get any writing done here, you're constantly distracted and pulled away to other things just as you start to get into the zone.
But maybe its enough to think about the book, about what you want in it, or should you just plunge ahead? What I would like to do is take time the next couple of afternoons, all this week, really, and sit and write. Maybe actually get out of the house and go to a coffee-shop or something, some place that doesn't have wifi or internet, don't even take the iPad, just the notebooks and sit and write for a couple of hours and that's what's really missing this time around, is the time to just sit and write.
My makeshift desk. I should start writing things for Dorky. I should make it more personal. I do think about things. I don't just parrot what happens through my environment. There are somethings I'd lie to talk about, I guess. Expert in nothing. Thoughts about a lot of things. Well, it's a fine kettle of fish, that's for sure.
It's the time of year when the air starts taking on moisture again, and the wind picks up and it smells like it is coming off the ocean, which for some reason feels natural in Iowa. I don't know why. You look out over the rolling hills and see dunes of sand, see undulating waves, see a distant horizon, the windmill cutting it like the masthead of a steamship from a bygone age. The days are getting longer, the sunsets are getting longer, and that's one of the beautiful things that Iowa offers up, sunsets that will make you want to cut out your own heart and offer it up in thanks.
