Take that......Spring

As of this morning, my long sleeved tops are folded neatly into a big plastic storage bin where they will live until Thanksgiving. My husband says I’m rushing things, temperatures being what they are.  But the birds have arrived, the sun makes an appearance more often than not, yard work is back on the agenda, and the first day of spring was heralded nearly three weeks ago.  Someone needs to rush things, to pressure the fickle season that bounces back and forth between summer and winter just to hear me groan—like that’s going to make a difference.  Nevertheless, I cave to summer clothes demanding release, and winter clothes begging for retirement.  And within easy reach, hangs an assortment of sweaters and jackets.
Take that……spring.

Until

Critiquing my first short story, my writer's group made comments like "skilled transitions" and "flowing sentences".  They were smiling so I assumed it was a good thing because frankly, I had no idea what they were talking about. I just wrote.
Until it made sense.
Until it sounded good.

Pouring over three years of Writer's Magazines, I was overwhelmed by critiques on show don't tell, passive verbs, action verbs, extrapolation, character development, cause and effect, blah, blah, blah, blah.  Writing to the rules is like diagramming a sentence before speaking. (You know what I mean if you have ever learned a foreign language. There’s a mental exercise before we ever open our mouths. Is the noun feminine or masculine? Does the object agree? Does it go first or last?  How do I conjugate the verb, present, past, future? Or is it subjunctive)?

But I finally get it.  I scour my writing for redundancies, fluff, and passive action.  I might even loose a goodnights sleep worrying over my characters or mentally rewriting a chapter. But mostly, I just write.
Until it makes sense.
Until it sounds good.