New Book — Kris.

So there I was, minding my own business and sitting in the road when someone asked me if I was working… “Sure,” I mumbled a few colorful adjectives under my breath. “I always work like this.”

Sometimes it’s hard to get out of bed. I reach for a glass of water that sits nearby on a small table and wish that thirst was my only problem. Pivoting gently sideways, I try to stand on feet that won’t quite follow my orders. I fight the pain and rise. It’s going to be one of those days.

I was up way too late last night with images of stories dancing in my brain. The new book was ousted by another tale of fiction that I am driven to sketch out before I lose sight of the nuances of the plot. Compelled by voices in my head to hit the keys at my computer, I tap out a quick reference to a story that I may never tell and then find my way to the kitchen with difficulty.

Coffee lavishes my tongue in a bath of instant wake up goodness. Suddenly the daylight streaming through the blinds seems brighter and the day has more possibilities. It’s amazing what that first cup can do.

I’m alone this morning so today will be filled with text and typing and hopefully I’ll finish a letter I was writing to my publisher. Although my cat says otherwise, now armed with coffee I sit down at my keyboard again and focus on my ongoing projects and my new blog. This computer is how I will face the world.

When i think about what I do daily as a microcosm of a book, I define it a a single work in a gallery of design. Every chapter is a picture. Every paragraph a brush stroke. The sum total becomes a story.
Like any artist, sometimes I’m lazy, or tired, or simply misinformed. The painting suffers and the day’s work needs restoration.
Somedays I want to be profound, while others I can’t be pulled away from my morning coffee.
So today I’m aiming for a few more paragraphs, a few more expressions and a few more digested dreams on my way to the end of the story.