I know, I know I'm late today. I'm all rushed and askew. Well, I know I am bound for greatness sometime soon, but for now I still had to do the grocery shopping earlier this morning. I would like to tell you I trailed over dewy grass to my local village market. That I wandered casually from stall to stall, breathing out puffs of mist, hands in my tweed coat jacket, chatting to Mr Rosenkrantz at his vegatarian sausage stall and laughing gaily with Marjorie Frumpstead as I admired her wholemeal wicker soy candles. That I returned home eventually with a 500 litre barrell of organic Pinot Noir under one trembling arm and and a limp soy chicken and bunch of homegrown watercress with frogs still attached in the other.
But no. No in reality I wandered the cold empty isles of Coles, alone like a little snack going through after a colonoscopy. Perhaps I moved a little faster.
After all the excitement of filling my trolley with little squares of plastic and cardboard, I got to meet Michael, the check out guy. It appeared from Michaels general demeaner and expression that he had had to pull a damp and frozen pair of undies off the clothes line in order to get to work on time. And they still hadn't dried. His warmth, friendly attitude and wit were clearly expressed elsewhere and later in the day. All in all a life affirming experience.
Yet, here I am still tapping away with those worn out two fingers to tell you another piece of advice to get published- just show up: at that desk or easel or floating beanbag with built-in laptop. Just show up and you will improve because you are proving that you mean business. Grrrrrr!!!!
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