the muse woke me this morning
And I wrote two pages for the novel before my first sip of chai. Then, in one of my readings, I came across the word spark.
It is a tattoo word, which I shall add to the on-going list. A word that reminds me of a quote that, even though at the time I couldn’t fathom believing, struck a chord with me for a long time, and gave me hope.
While writing this, my thoughts are on an image of a show I watched last night; it was so good (always is) that it stays with me and pops up when I least expect it. Which then leads me to Robert Louis Stevenson’s take on good writing.
I am like a little jumping garbanzo bean today – one of my least favorite beans, but I have always thought erraticism is like a jumping garbanzo bean.
Might have digressed.
The novel is taking shape, beginning to thicken. It’s like a stew, or rather a soup, which I much rather prefer. An ingredient, or more than one, is either missing and | or there’s not enough of it.
The original kernel — no pun intended, honest truth (how could truth not be honest??? tautology) — back in 2008 was to portray people not connected, yet connected or living, passing through, similar or exact facets, experiencing the same emotions. In different circumstances, yet inwardly feeling the same. It’s the inward that interests me. But what I am writing is becoming more entangled than I intended it to be. So I go for a ride.