Once again I was back in Pennsylvania. It was the end of October 2009. I’d decided to stay with family during the holidays and consider my options for the new year.
The RV was parked in my daughter’s driveway; looking like a lost dog. My precious Tin Can knew I was staying for a while; I think the wheel covers were the first clue.
Whenever I stay over somewhere for more than a week, there are certain storage procedures I follow to keep the RV in top shape. All the outer wheels get covered to protect them from the drying effects of the sun, even in winter. A trickle charger gets attached to the RV battery to keep it charged.
A neighbor brought over his air compressor and we worked on getting the waterlines and water heater drained so they wouldn’t be harmed by freezing temperatures. I prefer that method over putting antifreeze in all the lines.
I was all set for whiling away the winter in blissful dormancy. But that was not to be. I’d kept journals since I was sixteen and had always dreamt of writing a book….one day. Well, my dream apparently couldn’t wait any longer. I’d heard about a writing contest where you write a book in one month; it had to be at least 50,000 words to win. That meant roughly 1,700 words a day.
Accepting the challenge, I sat up, anxiously waiting until midnight on the last day of October. When November 1st arrived, I started writing; every day adding the required daily word count and sometimes more. I discovered through many long hours, persisting sometimes to the point of tears, that stories flowed from my brain down through my fingers to the keyboard and out into the word document. By November 24th I had over 50,000 words written; the first draft of my book of personal memoirs was completed.
I’d won the contest! I was on cloud nine; swinging on a star; in seventh heaven. Even though the book was for my eyes only, I was in my glory because, once again, I’d accomplished a long-held dream.
After that, I set out to tackle a more ominous task: working out every day for a month at a fitness center. It was going to be really tough; routine exercise had always been my nemesis. But, hey, I wrote a book; I could do anything!
(aka Tin Can Traveler)