Another day in the life of a writer
I was about to leave home for the post office when my 94-year-old father rang, could I pick up some dog food, and would I please type out a speech he plans to give at the monthly Dunkirk Veteran's lunch that day. (How could I refuse?) Picked up dog food, posted parcel, then on way back got waylaid by old lady who was feeling shaky and needed a steadying arm to get her back home (next to the papershop and on my way) Took dog food to Dad, collected speech and promised to have it back within the hour. Arrived home, made quick cup of tea, typed and printed out speech in large bold easy-to-read font and took it round to delighted father. Walked briskly home, trying to convince myself that this additional fresh air and exercise were excellent stress-busters. (Not convinced) While I was trying to amalgamate the separate files of DD prologue, chapters and outline into one electronic Word document, there was a loud thud. A bird had hit the window. I've already put celtic stickers on the glass to warn them. What more do they want, signs? When I looked out I saw one of my bullfinches huddled, panting and looking decidedly dazed. Bullfinches are usually very shy and quite rare. We have three pairs who are regular visitors to our bird table, and I've known them all since they were eggs. Left him to recover and went back to computer. Writer friend had given me detailed instructions on how to amalgamate separate files which I followed. But each time I inserted a page break then tried to insert the next file, the old header remained. If I changed it manually for the following doc, it also changed the one behind. My computer nearly ended up in the field next door! In the end, with all the files saved in order and as a single document, I went back to the beginning and inserted an entirely new header just giving the books initials, my initials and sequential page numbers. That worked, so I hit send. By now it was after 4pm, I'd lost my planned afternoon on the current wip and I had the beginnings of a headache. I checked the bullfinch who was taking a few tottering steps and trying to look as if he'd just landed for a rest, and made another cup of tea. It was too late to start my planned work on the current book. So I tackled a mountain of ironing, made an apple crumble and a tray of apricot, ginger and walnut flapjacks, and felt virtuous if still frustrated. Still, as Scarlett said "Tomorrow is another day". It can only be better.