The Harlequin Great Dane was maybe two years old and almost grown into his over-sized puppy paws. His massive head bigger than a basketball with quizzical deep brown eyes. Porter admired the dog’s unblemished gray coat.

“I guess I’ve taken to calling him Boo Boo,” Jo said as she shrugged.

“Isn’t he yours?” Porter asked.

“Naw. He just showed up last night. Now he won’t leave my side.”

“If he’s Boo Boo, does that make you Yogi?” Porter asked.

“Maybe. But Boo Boo was the smart one. Yogi was a con man.”

“Interesting spin on the pursuit of pic-a-nic baskets.”

Last summer while housebound after ankle surgery, I started journaling each morning. At first they were rambling entries until I focused on intention, priories and gratitude.

Intention was my word of the year in 2019. Each morning I choose an intention for the day: rest, lead by example, set the pace, etc. Even if I don’t use the intention as a mantra throughout the day, it does inform my actions.

Priorities. I write three priorities each morning. Most days my priorities are an extension of my intention (that rhymes) and also encompass my to-do list. A priority might be to tidy up and the to-do list will include cleaning tasks. No more than three priorities otherwise your risk diluting your intention.

Gratitude. I won’t spend a whole lot of time selling you on implementing a gratitude practice. Each morning I write five to ten things I’m grateful for. These are often memories from the day before and have been fun to look back on. Again this helps me focus my day to acknowledge small moments of joy.

As the sun moved ever west, light inched across the wall. One moment the wall was dark the next moment it was lit with dazzling spangles as the sun slanted across the horizon of the San Juan Mountains creating a premature or sunset.

The ice shimmered with brilliant shades of yellow and read and orange like the frozen waterfall was now molten gold tumbling down the mountain to pool in snow. Porter stood and stared in wonderment, while Jo snapped her handheld camera and the tripod camera’s shutter clicked every ten seconds taking a time lapse. The light was so fleeting like the sun sped closer to twilight with its foot firmly on the galactic gas pedal. The light show was over in a matter of ten minutes. The sun dipped below the mountains in a premature sunset.

Cam stroked the icy surface. Tapped it to listen its thickness. Some taps sounded hollow where the sheet had not adhered to the cliff face or where air pockets lie under its depth. He pulled off his thick ski gloves and stroked the sheet allowing his fingers to explore its cracked and pitted surface. The sensation calmed him, pulled back the cloak of anxiety to reveal deep, centered calm.

This happened often, this meditation and zen state as a result of connection with the natural world. As a child, he would flee his high-strung nature or the strictures of his mother’s overbearing and smothering good intentions when he’d lie down in the yard and breathe in the grassy green scent. During recess he’d escape to a far corner of the school grounds and plant himself under a Blue Spruce tree and put dried pine needles in his pocket. 

The calm put his mind right. No longer wading through nervous apprehension about the semester ahead or fears from ending his most recent relationship. Elena wanted too much time, lacked her own confidence and needed constant reassurance of her place in his life. She was jealous of his alone time. Given the option, she’d fill his every quiet moment with mindless chatter about the minutiae of her inconsequential day. After six months of enthusiastic sex and endless banality, he ended the relationship days after Christmas.

I get a three day weekend to write! My to-do list just doubled to avoid distractions and allow for maximum focus

Clean home and complete laundry.

Stock the fridge: tasty beverages, lots of water, healthy snacks, chocolates, and easy dinners.

Gather writing supplies: ink refills for my fountain pens, journal for notes, printed out manuscript so far, chocolates, fully charged laptop, post-it notes, highlighters and Oreos.

Rest night before.

Lots of notes and outlining on the days prior.

A plan and a schedule.

As a writer, you have the opportunity to use a red herring protagonist to confuse or hook the reader.

If your true antagonist is an other-worldly beast or alien invasion, you could use wildlife as another obstacle. Before introducing the alien, show several menacing interactions with wildlife.

If your true antagonist is Jon, a blood-thirsty and maniacal dentist, maybe your protagonist must first overcome a long-standing feud with Donnie her controlling and condescending boss.

This creates tension and gives the protagonist a win before the main event. Or rather a win before your crush her spirit.

Wayne dug through the shopping bag and with a grin that widened his whole face, he pulled out a box of oatmeal cream pies. “You’re a goddess.”

Wayne snatched a cookie from the box, unwrapped the crinkly plastic and swallowed it down in three bites. Even with cookie crumbs dotting his facial hair, he looked like an aging rockstar, a heavy metal guitar hero. His long salt and pepper goatee came to a point mid-chest over a thick waffle-weave green Henley. His saltier hair hid under a hooligan hat worn backwards. 

“I don’t get it,” Jo said and shook her head.

“Come on,” he said. “What do you miss? That one indulgence that you can’t get here.”