The day after

I was cold this morning, cold and tired despite laying for several hours with my eyes closed and snoring. And no amount of clothes could warm me up. Like an adder in early spring, I sort out the sun to try and soak up the rays so my body could start working again, and my mind function, plus I had to go out and do some shopping, and sitting, staring at the telly was getting me nowhere.
So I wrapped myself up in black and braved the day, and slowly, although my footsteps were my usual fast pace, the sunlight crept in and brought me back to life.
Ok, this is reading like a tale of someone else who is living my life but I suppose that's what happens when you have a couple of good ales the night before, your own life seems far away and far more interesting than it really is. And I need the writing practise anyway.
A friend of mine has gone and got himself published.

Ralph and the Purple Fly by Christopher Brunt is an interesting read. I haven't finished it yet but will let you know what I make of it soon. (Oooh, a blog with a purpose, finally.)
You can find him on twitter @https://twitter.com/CJBWriter or at http://www.christopherbruntauthor.com/ 
Am I jealous? No. Am I envious? Oh yes very. Not so much that he has got published, but that he has pushed himself to get published. He has got his finger out and made someone other than a friend read his work, and that someone found merit in it.
How can I do less than that? A thousand tales linger in this brain of mind but I have never pushed to do anything with them accept occasionally spoil a prefectly crisp white sheet of paper with irratic ink marks I call writing just to make some space in there so I can get on with day to day living.
Now I have been issued a challenge, and one I should have risen to long ago but my stories were just, well, stories that I wrote, and thought about, and occasionally discussed with others who had no choice but to listen to me ramble on about some odd character doing strange things in the safety of my imagination.
Where I go from here I do not know but I have to try. Even if I just end up blogging a tale or two, my work will be out there. Shame my typing is not that fast, and I tend to have difficulty explaining things in type where words just flow from the pen when I write (not always coherently or legible I admit) and the story arrives from brain to hand in one easy ink blot.
I don't write ideas and plans, and I don't usually know what is going on until it happens, but this haphazardness works for me as a creative being. So getting organised for me is a hard thing to do, but I cannot let Chris take the literary world by storm all by himself now can I?
We shall see.

Thank you for reading.. xx