Not Flakey Enough

What to write? What to right?

That, totally, just came to me. And then so did the notion I ought to get a Coke. With ice. I guess I’m doing stream of consciousness stuff today. Dammit, go get that Coke.

Coke in hand—Coke Zero to be precise—let’s see if I can rescue this from that.

The newest writing book I’m reading leans toward tragic premises. His advice and instruction pleases my palate, but it doesn’t exactly address the types of adventure stories that keep hanging around me like a box of mewling puppies looking for a scratch. (mixed metaphor and a cliché!). He wants my characters to change, to have an arc. Up from here, soar across this, land over there, but metaphorically. In fact, he’s saying my story actually lies in that character arc and in their trekking from one pole to the next, again metaphorically.

I suspect since I go to bed with The Song on the Benhá on the brain I’m having a tougher time sorting this all out since Charming continues to allude me. Or rather I’m avoiding pinning her down. Since she’s a character in my head I suppose the onus is on me to go after her rather than for her to come to me, right?

Of course I do know that my characters and my stories are my own to run down and write. I’m not flakey enough to expect them to saunter up to me. What I’m doing these days is gathering the questions I need to ask myself in order to get the answers I need. So I think I’m OK. It would be nice to have a whole book of those questions though.

And a Dr. Pepper.

287 words on day 711