What A Week

What to write, what to write?

Shall I tell you TuNoWriMo ended with a (not unexpected) fizzle? I did get about 15K pretty good words written, but that’s fewer than I’d hoped.

That my big decision – to replace my house sewer line or cut down the numerous trees that were probably causing the sewer line problems – resolved itself into doing both? I feared it would. Say “good-bye, emergency fund. Hello, beans and rice.” The good news is I can plant beans and rice in the mud my dog tracks in with each foray into The Swamp that used to be my backyard and will remain swampy until next May or longer, depending on Kansas weather.

I could mention I’m trying to help with crits on two soon-to-be published books. Whether or not the authors listen to me is entirely up to them. I wouldn’t. I don’t know what I’m saying half the time. I shut up the other half, mostly ’cause I’m asleep.

No, I’ll just say I serve a big God who loves me for some unknown reason and holds me in the palm of His hand. My writing is His, my house is His and my service – as it is – is His. I’ll do my best to be as faithful to Him as He is to me. I will succeed only by the grace of my Lord Jesus Christ.

My thanks to my friends who love and pray for me, even when I snap. May God bless and keep each one of you with the grace He shows undeserving me on a daily basis.

About Robynn Tolbert

Born in Kansas and born again at age six, Robynn has published two novels and started her third. Robynn, aka Ranunculus Turtle, lives in Kansas with a clowder of cats, a patient dog and a garden.

8 comments on “What A Week

  1. Life is just full of difficult decisions. Being finite creatures is challenging. Be at peace.

  2. I grew up in a swamp. No! Seriously! On the south coast of Papua, Indonesia. We used to call where we lived the bird’s armpit, because the entire island of Papua looks like some kind of mutated bird, the station was in about the right place for the armpit, and we had 90-100 degrees of humidity pretty much year-round.

    Our houses stood on “dry” ground, but they were all built up on heavy-duty 2-3 foot thick stilts. We’d get over 300 inches of rain a year. Sometimes the path from the end of the airstrip to the boathouse would flood. Our water table was only 6 inches below ground level, and we had little crabs in our yard that dug holes down to live in the mud. Less than a hundred yards from our house in at least two directions, the ground dropped off into swamp that had mud in it up to my knees. Where our backyard sloped down into the jungle, we had a large water-seep.

    I have fond memories of slipping and sliding down paths, losing flip-flops that the mud swallowed never to give back again, and building a mud slide on the side of the airstrip. My brother and I would come home caked from head to toe in the finest white kaolin (great stuff for making pottery), and Mom wouldn’t let us in the house until we washed it all off. (Playing in the mud was MUCH better fun than playing in the snow, but don’t tell my daughter that–)

    All that to say, I’ll bet your dog is having fun… 😉 ((HUGS))

    I only got about 6,000 words written total for NaNo, myself. Since I moved a week earlier than I’d planned to, did some sewing (very time-consuming) and took a major trip in the middle of the month, I’m just thrilled for any word-count at all.

    • You’re making me miss Ponape, Micronesia, where I lost many a zori in the mangrove swamps.

      Last month’s word count was my best for the year. I’m not knocking it. Good job on getting some words out yourself!

  3. I like beans and rice. Black beans and brown rice. Mmmmmm. (Great, now I’m hungry. Not that this is a rare occurrence.)

  4. At least we all fizzled together. 🙂 *hugs* I hope this month is a bit easier on you.

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