The sun's shining. The weeds are growing. And the grass is waving in the breeze.
Meanwhile, book two of Hemlock hasn't grown any bigger since last I looked, this time last week. I really need to get writing...
...really need to get weeding and mowing the lawn.
Green things grow faster than words, and I guess that's just life.
So I'll dream a few more scenes while I mow, with the scent of seed and sneezing in the air. And the weeds I was pulling last week? They're bigger and stronger and wiser now and their roots go deeper under solider ground. But I'm lucky because my stories grow longer roots too when I'm away from writing, so at least I know they'll be waiting for me when some typing time finally comes round.