Stopping to Smell the Orchids
I know. Orchids don’t have a scent. But it was fun for a moment to imagine that if they did, what would they smell like; would they be softly fragrant? Delicate and prone to wafting too quickly away? Or, like the flower itself, bold and beautiful and different for every type?
I also stopped to smell the daffodils at the emergence of Spring, on this side of the globe, after the end of a long and tumultuous month involving moving house for family reasons in less than two weeks. The change is huge for us, right out into the country and I love it as I grew up miles from anything like a city, but it comes with its challenges.
Over one of which I have a confession to make. I didn’t write all month. I’m sorry.
There just wasn’t time, and I always promised I’d always make time but, circumstances being what they are, it didn’t happen. I feel so appallingly guilty for that, as though if you knew you’d be disappointed, and nobody could be more so than myself. The Well of Youth was supposed to be finished by the end of August and I’m so far out on my schedule since I had a plot change in late July involving thousands of words worth of rewrites and that’s not even the worst part.
The worst part is I didn’t even have time to think about the story.
I always think about the plot, it helps me go to sleep at night. No, really, it does.
But I went to bed most nights so exhausted all I could think about was which books I were going to make the cut or be put in storage. How were my two cats going to get along with the cat they were moving in with? (Pictures will show their precarious situation and how worried they are).
I didn’t even get a chance to look at the website until I realised August was over and I hadn’t done my monthly post. What can I tell you? Life got in the way. It does that sometimes.
I’m not going to carry this personal failure onwards, and even though time is scarce, I will just endevour to do better. And that’s a lesson in itself. I’m here and making time to do what I love. Sometimes life will get in the way of that. That doesn’t mean I will wallow in guilt and give up, rereading the story after all that time will be refreshing, and if I finish this book by a certain date in October then I’ll have earned the self indulgent day spa treatment I’ve already booked.
Goals can be rearranged, they have to adjust to life, because nothing you hold onto is completely within your control, and it is far better to work towards those goals than worry about what you haven’t done.
Stop and imagine the elusive scent of the orchids.