It’s Friday morning. Time to write the blog. And nobody’s home. My head, as Professor Higgins would say, is full of “cotton, hay, and rags.”

Sunshine has come to Seattle if not wholesale summer. The clear skies are beautiful, but that means it’s colder, too. Just ask the goldfish who are hiding out under the rock in the fish pond. At least I HOPE that’s where they are. If not, that means some marauding creature has been sneaking into the yard at night and chowing down.

This is the part of being a writer that is tough. I am working on a book that isn’t quite coming into focus. There is no one else who can wave a magic wand and fix it. It’s the old, “If it is to be, it is up to me” program.

And so, although there’s sunlight outside, the golf clubs will stay in the garage for the time being.

When people say to me, “Being a writer must be SO exciting,” they don’t see this part. They see it as being out in front of people; speaking; signing books; being a star. This is the part that’s all about being at home with my butt in a chair and my fingers on a keyboard. Exciting? I don’t think so.

One footnote to last week’s blog. We went to Spokane for our granddaughter’s gymnastics meet. Ten year-old Audrey came away as the All Around Champion in her age group and was Number 1 of ANY AGE in the vault. We were right in front of the vault station, so we got to see that up close, but our seats were all the way across the gym and cornerwise from the bars, so although we could see some of her bars performance, it was from a distance.

Audrey dismounts at the State finals in Spokane.

Yesterday my daughter sent a photo that the professional photographer took as Audrey dismounted from the bars. She is horizontal and at least ten feet above the ground. Her toes are pointed; legs straight. The expression on her face is serene, as though floating in air is her natural habitat.

In a way, that one captured moment, is a lot like writing. It looks easy. It looks fun. It looks . . . well . . .exciting. But what doesn’t show are all the hours of work and practice that went into it. All the mealtimes that had to get moved around in order to get to the gym. All the parental time and effort that went into making it all possible.

Yes, we were and are very proud of Audrey. Yes, we cheered like crazy, but in the end, if it is to be, it was and is up to HER!

There’s a lesson in that for all of us.