Make.

Prompt: Make.
I really need to pour it on tonight. I've got 12 minutes until Castle comes on and I don't aim to miss it so either I make it or there is an hour's gap between typing. Damn Toast was screaming to go out but as soon as I got to the door he ran away. He wanted to play. He got the boot. Ten minutes to go.
Ok, back to the prompt. What is the last thing I made? does a mess count? a mistake? I made cookies the other day. Harvest Moons. They are really good. Pumpkin puree with some oatmeal and chocolate chips. Pretty healthy as far as cookies go. Before that I made a banana pudding for the troops. They seemed to like it. Before that I made a pile of things to go to Goodwill. Creative-wise I haven't made anything in awhile. I wrote a few scenes for the novel but is that considered making something? I made a clean spot when I dusted the other day. I won't make that mistake again. I made some disparaging remarks to someone. I made a fool of myself. Wow, I'm busy making things all the time. I made a list of things to do. This was on it. I made it around the block this evening walking the dogs with the husband. I made love with said husband last night. I made a promise to be nicer to him since he's in a blue funk. I made a dent in my email backlog. I made the kidlet clean her room. In the spring I made a cucumber fence out of bamboo that I grew myself. It worked a charm. It couldn't hold back the heat unfortunately and the cucumbers dried up but the fence looks really cool. I'll have to come back to this.
Hey! I made it back. How about that? I made myself a cup of tea. Ok, enough of this. What have I made recently...I made cuttings from plants but I didn't really make anything. Just helped with the propogation a bit. But that's certainly nothing creative. I can't honestly say I've made anything worth while lately. What would I like to make? Ah, well, that's a different story. I want to upholster the old chair that I stripped down to the frame last year. I've got the books. I've got the fabric. I've got the tools. I've got the time. I just can't get my hands on the stuffing or padding. I want to finish at least one of the paintings I started. I just got several ideas for future paintings but refuse to start another until one is completed. Maybe this week. While cookie dough is chilling. I want to start making bread at least once a week. It's super easy to make. You just need about 18 hours for it to sit around and ferment. That doesn't involve me.
In order for me to make these things I'll have to find some motivation somewhere. Right now every ounce of motivation I can scrape up is dedicated to writing. I want to finish the novel. I have to finish the novel. It has gotten too convoluted and the story has to be told. Too many things have happened lately that I can't ignore and tempus fugit. And yet, if I sequester myself in that world too many other things will go pear shaped. I've always heard that moderation is key. See, that never worked for me. When I used to draw I would work on whatever had captured my attention and would not move until it was done. Hours bent over a drawing pad. Everything else stopped. If I stopped for anything then the spell would be broken and the work would go unfinished. Same with the paintings that grace my walls. Undone. So, maybe I should make time. I've made all the excuses. I need to find that focal point where time doesn't exist. I used to know where it was, before I had a family, before people depended on me for anything. I need to get back to that place. I have a feeling that if I could find it I'd be able to get the book done. I'd be able to get a lot done. Not just the mundane every day crap that usually doesn't get done but should. I mean meat and potatoes stuff. The book. I made a world. I made people who live there. Now I have to let them become.