Over the weekend, I managed to write seven words shy of 5300 words. That was impressive. Then I didn't write again until today. As it was, I had to force myself to turn the computer back on. I'm glad I did, another 2180 words appeared. Like magic! Okay, not really but they were good words for the most part. I'm building something. That takes a lot of work.
It's not fair to blame the Supermoon but a lot of people I love and adore had a rough time of it the last few days. Lots of feeling unworthy. Lots of beating up on ourselves. And everywhere I looked people reminded each other of at least one good thing in their lives. Coincidentally someone sent me the results of a study in which people with pets were proven to be happier and healthier. I'm continually surprised that there's a whole world of human beings who doesn't know that as gospel. Sheesh, they need a cat. Or a llama. But not an elephant. They don't make great pets.
I read a great book by an author I really enjoy but she had the vet heroine heal an injured wild turtle. The turtle went back into the wildness of the heroine's front yard but showed up at her porch every night for fresh strawberries. I enjoyed their interaction - until the heroine brought the turtle inside and stuck him in an aquarium. Yes, she was definitely following the above philosophy of pets making one's life richer but turtles aren't domesticated. It pulled me right out.
What takes you out of a story?