Waiting for inspiration

            I might as well be waiting for Godot. The project I’m working on just isn’t coming together—and I haven’t even written the first word. But I’m trying to get thoughts down. There’s a good story there—nonfiction—but I’have yet to figure out the focus, the point of telling it. What does the reader learn? I can see some negative lessons, but I guess at heart I’m a sentimentalist. I like happy endings.

So I too the day off to let my thoughts percolate. I’m a big believer in things simmering in the back of your mind. And sometimes I get my best inspiration when I nap in the afternoon. That did not happen today, however! But I happened across a Diane Mott Davidson novel I haven’t read—I had thought I read them all. The Last Supper starts with Goldy’s wedding day—only there is no groom. He’s missing, apparently kidnapped. That’s enough of a good beginning for me, and I hooked. Spent a lovely few hours reading.

I’ve also been laughing about things I wish I’d known sooner. For some time now, I’ve had trouble plugging my phone into the charger. I plug maybe ten or twelve times, turning the charging prong over this way and that, but it never “takes.” You can feel it the phone and see the change in the color of the bar that indicates the charge when it’s working. I ordered a new cord from Amazon but then had an idea—a little bit of spit on the charge cord works like magic!

I also have trouble with the automatic gate closer. I try to use it from inside my kitchen, through the window in the door. But you have to hold it just right and hold your mouth just right to make it work. Until I realized that if I open the door and stick the remote control outside, it works like magic.

It’s those little things. Why did I have to get so old to learn them?

A nice dinner with friends tonight, and I’m back home and ready to bury myself in that book. Maybe inspiration will come.