An Airing Out

stockvault-old-wooden-house-exterior138042As I prepare (i.e. look forward to giddily) for the end of my unplanned sabbatical from writing, I am attempting to view this break from my literary career in the most favorable light possible.

*takes a deep, preparatory breath… that crumbles quite pitifully into a frail hiccup-y cough*

Well, that’s the plan anyway. Let’s have a go at this positive crap, shall we?

Late last night in the middle of another sleepless night (no writing = bad Chloe brain), I decided to look at my sabbatical (unplanned, have I mentioned that?) like an airing out of an old house.

Windows and doors open with nobody about, all the accumulated dust and needless clutter of The Hushing Days manuscript has been gently removed by the warm spring wind. With no work being done amid its hallways, no mad carpenters, pesky third-person omniscients or Lisabels or Rosabels running amuck in its rooms, the novel-to-be has had a chance to just breathe and be.

Ah, how refreshing!



How freaking merry.

Well, that’s all over tomorrow. The dog and my bags are packed and we’re moving back in. Ready or not, here Chloe and the muse come!

Until Monday (travel day on Sunday)…



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