Well, I was supposed to go to Pittsburgh this week-end for a moot and to support a friend whose band is rocking. I couldn't afford a plane ticket (NZ trip drained my bank account) so I bought a Greyhound bus ticket. I've never in my life taken a Greyhound bus. I think I should be a bit ashamed. Isn't that the American way to travel? Yet, my parents were railroaders and their parents before them. Sadly, Amtrak hasn't a clue as to how to run a train service. The only times to leave my city to get to Pitts. was at 1ish in the morning, arriving in Pitts around 4ish in the morning. Now how on earth can I ask my friends to pick me up at the train station at 4am??? Really now.
I bought the ticket and considered myself old enough for an adventure. I was ready. I was willing. I was able. I was looking forward to seeing loads of friends and a couple dear ones from Philly. Well, sadly, one of the girls from Philly ended up in the hospital, so the moot was postponed. But I worked up the courage and now, with the price of the bus so low too, I know I can go as soon as the group is ready again.
This was an odd and nerve-wracking week, until I found the courage to not fly. I thought of my heroine and the courage she had to have to do the insane things that I was putting her through. I realized I hadn't spent time with her on the 'working-up-the-courage' mode. So I'm going to do that right now. I know exactly where to put this struggle, where she rises from fear and goes forth with a modicum of courage. Only a modicum because she's got to grow during the book. That's part of writing a book' I've got to show my characters growing. Just like me. *g*
I got my piano, finally. The discipline I've learned here I'm transferring - well, not really transferring - using with the piano. I've vowed to practice an hour a day. I've discovered that my fingers get tired more easily than they used to. But it's been ten years since I've had a piano. I'll be kind to myself and 'grow into' the stamina I'll need to do an hour a day. Right now, I'm doing fifteen minute increments. That'll be good. Four times a day times fifteen minutes equals an hour. I'm content with that.
I hope to spend two hours a day, eventually, because one of my New Year's resolutions is to be able to play Christmas carols next Christmas time.
I was reading a writing book tonight and it spoke of goals. This absolutely frosts me because I've read this chapter before. And I didn't take it to heart. Thankfully, my friend, as I noted the other day, suggested I publish goals for my writing. Which I did (see the handy-dandy right side of the home page). It's been working. I've been editing 'Blue' and writing 'The Other Side' with alacrity.
Life is a goal.