The familiar beep is annoying at best. Ironic since I chose that particular sound because it was the least annoying.
Six a.m. on a Friday . . .
My world . . .
Stumble in the darkness, a daily metaphor, shower, toss down some orange juice, and settle down in front of the computer no later than 6:30. That time is important to me, though I know not why.
Pound out the words, make customers happy, it’s always about the customers, check emails for instructions, communicate confusion, finally settle into a rhythm of content b.s. designed to score higher with the Google gods, what a silly, silly game I play . . . but it pays the bills and that cannot be ignored.
Everything goes smoothly, done by ten, giving me half an hour to slay some bad guys in my latest novel, and ten-thirty marks the time to clean up the kitchen and prepare for an early lunch with Bev, who is due home by eleven.
Day in, day out, sunrise, sunset, swiftly flow the years . . .
The afternoons are for the farm, feed the chickens, go for a walk with Maggie, make repairs to coops, that sort of thing, thoroughly enjoyable except during mud season, and then not so much, but even my worst days are pretty damned good.
More often than not inspiration visits me on the farm. My muse loves it out there and, seriously, why wouldn’t she?
Home by three, clean up the house, feed dogs, check emails, organize for the next day, and settle in for Bev’s return at six-thirty. Most evenings are for us, our alone time, the time when bonding happens and the marriage is strengthened.
And that’s how my days go. I stick to a routine because, well, life is better for me in a routine. It’s taken me a lifetime to reach that realization. Obsessive-compulsive personalities, like mine, function better when the days are mapped out and randomness is eliminated.
And I’m fine with that. I do all right. I accomplish things within the confinement, not allowing the addictions to roam free. It’s worked well for me for twelve years now; don’t fix it if it ain’t broken, or as a mentor once told me, adopt the K.I.S.S. Method . . . Keep It Simple Stupid!
What works for you, works for you. What works for me, works for me.
Bill
“Helping writers to spread their wings and fly.”
Billybuc
Artistry With Words 