Progressive in Being Peaceful Department

Today was one of those writing days that don't come by very often. I sat at the kitchen table and dipped pen into ink, literally, before applying the pen to the page. The scritch scratch of the pen was the only sound to be heard except for the occasional snore of the dogs or them shifting positions. The scenes were brisk in my mind and came out, I think, quite well onto the paper. The words kept collecting and collecting until, at last, the thing was finished. Two weeks of working on a short story and it was finally done. When I wrote the last night, punctuated it and leaned back into my chair more comfortably I felt as if I had just written a short story! Now begins the typing.