Saturday Morn.

Saturday morning... Of course I woke up at dawn, wanting to lie in bed longer. The heat has yet to cranked on. Cold, but I refuse to submit to the furnace before October 1st. The children give me accusing glances as they shuffle downstairs with their fleece blankets wrapped around their bodies and then burrow into the folds of the couch; Scooby Doo will help take their minds of the deep freeze. I tell them it's good for their development. They say nothing. Chocolate chip pancakes is all they can utter before re-covering their faces with fleece. A couple of genuine Lawrence of Arabias... Time. Time is what I need. Time is my ally and enemy. Time determines what gets written and what doesn't. This morning - quickly - I must decide which of three things to work on: I could polish "The Attic," which is nearly finished, just in the sanding phase. Was written last fall waiting at swim practice. Sanding can be done anywhere, any time, but after a while it gets to be a real bore. I get tired of the book. I don't care if I ever see it again - man, get that thing outta here. I could work on "Between the Tusks," which needs the ending. Endings aren't usually a big deal to write, but in this case - with so many connect-the-dot sub-plots up in the air, it all has to come together in some sort of logical, fluid way. Hm... yeah... Or, there's "Squid Flower Pants," the book for the girls. In the early stages with that one. The most challenging, but what I dig about writing - taking a blank piece of paper and writing something that didn't exist before. Wow, what an honor, what a thrill. Gives me a high like nothing else... Better decide quick. Time is ticking...