Monday, January 30, 2012

Monday Morning

cabin, park, woods, retreat, peaceful
It's tough to write when your brain feels foggy. This morning I woke up only to realize that I had overslept a little. Maybe the weekend was just too enjoyable and my brain didn't want to start the week yet. I was able to use the nice weather yesterday and get my cherry trees pruned, all of my rose bushes, two kiwi vines and one of my grape vines. Eric did some fishing and then fried us up some fresh yellow perch for an appetizer before dinner. Hope was home at least for a few hours before she left to go back to college. She and Joy entertain each other. It's fun to hear them constantly giggling. We ended the evening with some vegetable soup, followed by wine and chocolate a couple hours later. Midnight is just too late when morning starts early!

Anyhow, I finished the story I mentioned before, The Empty Cabin. A boring postman goes against all his directives and opens a letter, only to find it came from a prisoner. I tried to create conflict in his character by writing about his involvement in something that a normal postman would never do.

Here is an excerpt from The Empty Cabin:

"Daniel drove his white mail delivery truck into the driveway that lead around the back of the cemetery. It was his favorite place to hide away for a lunch break. No one would bother him there and he could situate his truck so that he was invisible to the passing cars. He pulled into a sunny spot away from the large maple trees. They were still leaf-bare and the warm sun felt good even though the air was crisp. Dry leaves littered the side of the gravel-lined drive, dancing with every breeze with slight cracklings. Breathing deeply, Daniel leaned back and placed his arms behind his head. Delivering mail wasn’t a glamorous job, but he enjoyed the walking and the pay was sufficient. Solitude was normal to him, only punctuated by the occasional greeting from a little old lady or a friendly shop owner. Everyone seemed to like him and enjoyed the consistency of his punctual deliveries. He reflected on his 22 years and was proud of himself for having bought his own condo after college. 
A torn envelope in his top box of mail caught his attention. That wasn’t good. No one wanted to think that their mail was vulnerable to prying eyes."