It's good to feel productive.
Last night I came home, ate a bit of supper, then went to work on revising an essay. Before the evening was through, I'd submitted it to an anthology and felt pretty darn proud of myself for getting it done.
But in between revising, I went and sat on the front porch to watch the approaching storm. I took my journal with me and started recording the sights and smells and sounds around me. It started to rain (a rain which soon turned into a torrential downpour) and I wanted to record those peaceful sounds.
Big fat drops. Lazy drops. Plop.
Not hard and fast, not driven with anger or determination. Soft. Harmonious.
And as the rain grew in momentum, I wrote, No more plops, but scattering pebbles. Ping.
It's not Keats or Bronte or even remotely close to Shakespeare, but it was fun just to try and come up with different ways to describe the rain. I even thought of a cool simile: The rain sounds like someone spilled a case of straight pins on a wooden floor.
If you ever get a few peaceful moments, sit outside and just listen to the sounds around you. Try and come up with different ways to describe them rather than the same old tired phrases. I know I tried to come up with something other than a "gentle breeze" and couldn't. Of course, if I'd had my handy thesaurus with me, you never know what might have happened!
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