1,006 words. 

Soon as I woke.  Now I brake from my daily 3 pages, not at all wanting to work, or go to the tasting room.  What if I just tell myself it’s not work, that I won’t take it seriously or only as serious as I’ll let it be.  Be the day’s supervisor, or manager, managing how it impacts me or influences my mood.

Thinking in flash fiction bites, next to the novel.  I don’t have to focus solely on the novel, do I?  Maybe just write little fictive bits on my breaks from the novel.  My writing life, really “living it” like Glenn said yesterday about the wine life, how he wakes up every morning so early to be out in the vineyard at 5, or 5:30.  Me as much and well with my words and the pages I mold, overdosed on this coffee roast, and seeing people walking into the tasting room just writing about them, making them mine, no matter how boring or exciting they could be, whatever and however they speak.