Another Rainy Day

It’s raining. Again.

Our dirt road has washed away, and left in its are place boulders that my husband I would not dare lift, even together. Amazing, the power of water.

Needless to say, we’re stuck at the farm until we can be rescued by a knight in shining armor – the county road grader.

So today, I am working on a new short story, “Haruko’s Tsunami.” I know in my mind what I want to say, but I’m struggling to get that message to my fingers. In the last hour, I have changed the first sentence three times:

12:05 p.m.
#1) The ground rumbled. There were times when Haruko was not sure if it was the movement of the earth or the frailty of old age that caused her imbalance.

The dogs need out. Then they need back in. Now they’re horseplaying. Then . . .

12:34 p.m.
#2) Haruko felt the earth rumble, then watched cherry blossoms fall like snowflakes from their branches. Takeo would come for her again.

Stephen calls me from downstairs. “Baby, I need your help with this computer again.”

1:05 p.m.
#3) Takeo would come for her again. Haruko knew this when the earth rumbled. She watched cherry blossoms tremble on branches, let go and fall to the ground below.

Turning blue in the face, I figure I’ll check Smashwords again to see if my story has finished uploading. Wow – my very first Smashwords story. But, it’s been in the upload queue for almost 24 hours now. #3212 to #2693 to #2112 to #1936. Now, at last at #599. Did I format it properly? What will the cover look like? Just how long must one be expect to hold one’s breath?

1:17 p.m.
“Honey, let’s go get your car now,” Stephen calls again.

I threaten to whine about being in the middle of this blog entry that took me away from my story, but decide I’d better not pass up the opportunity to rescue my car from the bottom of the hill.

1:45 p.m.
Both cars are safely at home. My Smashwords queue is now at #394, and I’ve rewritten the first line of “Haruko’s Tsunami” for the last time:

#4) Haruko stomped her feet until the ground began to rumble. Tired of waiting, she ripped a branch from the cherry blossom tree, and decided to go after him. “Takeo, where the hell are you? I’ve got a little present for you.”

That’ll have to do for now. The phone is ringing . . .
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