How Many Words Did You Write Today?

At the beginning of the week I decided that I would write a thousand words a day, come hell or high water. I used to write at least twice that and sometimes more, but hell and high water have featured more than I would like in my life lately, so I thought I'd cut myself some slack. Now, when I say hell and high water, I don't want you to worry. I don't have a life-threatening illness or anything like that, just lots of little things keep going wrong and some big ones too. Things to do with my aged parents, problems with material things we own such as our old car, disappointment regarding finding a home for my latest book, that kind of thing. Anyway, things conspired against my thousand words a day and so I managed only three and a bit ( thousand of course, not single words) since Monday.

This morning I decided I would do those thousand words, but so far have only managed one hundred and thirty-one, but I have decided it doesn't matter. They are the first words of chapter six and I think they are pretty good words. I expect they might get swapped around, deleted or changed in some way, but I am happy with them. Isn't that what matters? Surely to have a few words that you are happy with is better than having lots of words that are just okay. Anyway, I thought I would share my one hundred and thirty-one words with you. Hope you like them too.

July dawns were like notes of hope. They reminded the days to be bright, fresh and summery.

 Sometimes the days forgot to read the notes, or preferred to sit under rainclouds or hemmed in by thick walls of pollution. But sometimes they paid attention. Today was a note reading day. I watched from my window as the muted dawn-light revealed the purple shadows and sages of the garden as a base coat, while gradually adding the bolder brushstrokes of sunlight to transform the canvas into a kaleidoscope of dazzling colour. In corner barrels, lupins boasted pink and blue, in hanging baskets, yellow primroses glowed under the blush of red geraniums, and in the foreground, the huge white rose bush Mum had loved presented a myriad of dew-covered buds, pregnant with fragrance.