Entry 66: Oblivious to the storm

I’ve never been good about keeping a journal. It all boils down to consistency. There are days when I skip making an entry. Life can crowd out the time I need to write down my thoughts about a day’s events. I’ve also been reluctant to pose as an expert on the writing process. If I knew anything of value about writing, my work would already be in print. I went out on a skinny limb of a tall in 2022 when I shared my 365 days of thankfulness. The exercise forced me to put myself out there with my soft belly exposed. Thank you for joining me on my journey in the written word. Therefore, I plan to keep a journal in 2023 to document my progress. I will call Entry 66: Oblivious to the storm.

Note: I consider editing an important part of the writing process. Editing is where all the artistry happens.

My morning writing before I started Entry 66: Oblivious to the storm.

It’s tempting to delete the last part of Amazing Buchanan and The Beast and rewrite it without a single word from the first draft. The story is going in a different direction. Bad people must be dealt with in this version. Will Chandler discovers a letter, leaving him questioning everything he knows about his family. His mother is much nicer in the first draft.

I wrote my first cascade poem today. I think it will be fun to write in this style. Now all I have to do is come up with the ideas and the words. Where is Word Daddy when you need him? I don’t feel inspired. Maybe it’s the change in the barometric pressure from the approaching storm that deletes my creativity.

The book I am currently reading right now and Entry 66: Oblivious to the storm

Levin and his male guest go hunting in Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. This male activity takes up an entire section of this book. The first day is a total disaster, and Veslovsky makes several bad mistakes. His gun goes off accidentally. He is supposed to watch the horses but allows them to get stuck in a swamp. He and Oblonsky go off at night to flirt with peasant women and get drunk. Levin tries to take it all in stride because he feels bad about feeling jealous of Veslovsky. He also worries he might have lost his hunting luck because he is less manly due to his recent marriage. He gets up early in the morning, goes off hunting alone, and kills many birds. His confidence is renewed.

It appears nothing has changed over time. Men still do stupid stuff like this today. Here in Indiana, they go hunting, kill, and return feeling like men. I am so happy Rooster doesn’t get into the hunting thing. He doesn’t feel the need to climb a tree in November to wait for a deer to stroll out of the woods. He hasn’t need to kill Bambi to feel like a man.

What I’m listening to right now and Entry 66: Oblivious to the storm

I took another listen to Tracy Chapman this morning. The CD I selected was Let it Rain. I spent the morning listening to these tunes while I typed my words. I Can’t imagine a better thing to listen to on a rainy day than this CD.

The thing I am most thankful for at this moment.

I am so thankful the tornado warning I had earlier today didn’t produce a twister. We live in one of the few cities that doesn’t have a tornado siren. Rooster and I didn’t hear about the tornado warning so we didn’t take shelter until we gave the granddaughters a ride home from school. They told us about spending time in the boy’s bathroom because of the tornado. One of our older granddaughters went to get her mail and got locked out of her house with her baby. She started walking to her mom’s without knowing how bad the weather was. I am so thankful that no one got hurt.

This old lady says

Some days you get rain, and other days, you get tornados. I like the rain but hate tornados, so I am so glad I was oblivious to the storm. I detest spending time with the spiders in the basement.

Who is Molly Shea?

Molly Shea is an accomplished fictional short story writer from Indiana who writes short stories and novels about a fictional town called Tecumseh.  To read more of her short stories and adventures, click here.

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