Late night for me, because I was out and about visiting, taking in pizza and movies, and staying up a lot later than I would normally. In fact, when I realized the time, I hadn’t realized the time. That’s how the evening went.
I was right about yesterday: I didn’t get a lot of writing done. About three hundred and sixty words, that was it, but it was the initial description of my other main female character for my novel, and that was what I needed to move on to the next part of Chapter Five.
But, once more, I got my motor running to go somewhere, and while going there and back, my mind was on a lot of things. My Muse was on my mind; my story was on my mind; stories I haven’t written were on my mind. It was all there, roaming about, getting down in my memories and making it known that I wasn’t going to forget anything.
Most of what I thought about were scenes from a story that hasn’t been written, but has been on my mind of late. It has to do with having to do a duty that is both exciting and frightening, and once they’ve begun, the characters in question are presented with–call it an alternate reality of their lives. Those the two characters have been together a long time, things happened in their past that pulled them away from people who they’d fallen for very hard. And times and events and people being what they are, the characters were never able to reconcile these relationships, and therefore became somewhat haunted by the dreams of what could have been.
Each is given the opportunity to enjoy time with the “one who got away,” because, as one character is told, “You’ve always deserved to be happy. Even if you are happy now, it is not the happiness you wanted. You deserve to be with your one true soul mate; you deserve to be happy, even if for a little while.” The character in question finds they are unable to disagree, because, deep down, they have always wanted that particular happiness–and even if they question how they are achieving the moment, they don’t care . . .
But, being me, you know they’ll end up in some kind of misery by the end of the story. Actually they end up in some rather strange stuff at the end, but that’s also me . . .
I’ve thought a lot about happiness where it comes to my characters. It’s easy to say that we all need to be happy, that we should have that one, great love that would make our lives complete. It doesn’t always happen: that’s pretty obvious when you look at the general human condition. It’s not always possible, but we try. And if we can’t try, we dream and fantasize.
Some of us take those dreams and fantasies and turn them into the stuff prose is made from, and then bleed upon our pages for the entertainment of others.
Because our silence is always the loudest.
