Back home: My sister, who graduated in April and has been, um, let’s say, restless (like most recent graduates – it’s a syndrome; I’ve suffered from this, can be quite debilitating, reduced me to tears at one point), sent me a text message, asking me to take a look at her CV. A good start, I think. (She also asked me to bring home copies of the soundtracks of Phantom of the Opera and Slumdog Millionaire, and don’t I dare forget it. I’m almost afraid to ask what for.)
AND. It’s my mother’s birthday today! *dance*
Last night: I can’t remember now when I had the idea for this particular story, but I’ve been taking notes, the characters just suddenly piping up while I’m busy with laundry or the dishes or while I’m eating (which can be very annoying). Anyway, I took notes. (If you write fiction or whatever and take notes in a little, battered notebook, lord help you if you get involved in a crime and the cops take a peek into this – they’ll think you’re a nutjob. Maybe I should put a sign on my little notebook: JUST STORY NOTES DON’T PANIC.) Snippets of dialogue, plot comments, character quirks. And I ended up with what? A jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces. Oh, what fun. But I sat down and began writing anyway, coughed up five pages without tripping once, and was pleasantly surprised. The beauty of a half-baked idea: you work on it long enough and before long the characters are practically dragging you to the next plot turn. It’s freaky and exciting and I hope I won’t hit a wall. I hope I’ll finish telling the story.
I’m grateful. It’s not a bad emotion to feel every once in a while, right. ;)