The Fountain of Salmacis

After all the fun and frivolity of yesterday, I’m back to the grindstone this morning.  It’s not really as much of a grind as you may think:  I’ve been up about seventy-five minutes by this time (the clock on the computer says 7:12 AM), I’ve had a cup of coffee, and I’m almost forty minutes into listening to a concert by Genesis from 1976.  It’s a normal morning for me, more or less.  At least I’m getting some sleep these days.

This was going to be a very different post today, because as I was powering up the computer something struck my mind, a sliver of memory that had been hanging around for a few days.  When people say, “Where do you get your ideas?” the answer is they just come to me.  My blog posts are like that.  A few times it seems as if all I’m doing is detailing things that happen day to day, and there are times, weeks even, when I do just that.

But every morning I have to come up with something.  Now, you might say, “You don’t have to come up with something,” and that’s true.  I don’t have to do anything.  I don’t have to write the blog every day.  I could just take a day off and–I don’t know?  Shop for hand bags?  Shave my legs?  Strike out on a massive road trip to find every Facebook friend who I want to share a dinner, a cuddle, and a warm bed with?  (Actually, that last could make for a great story, and I have some ideas where I’d start.)Panara

The idea that hit me first thing is different from the words you’re seeing on your screen right now.  I’m not going to throw that idea away, because it’s a good idea, and it’s very possible when I’m sitting down tomorrow morning in my local Panara (which you can see to your right–unless you’re reading this upside down, in which case it’s to your left), and I only have one hour to crank out my post, I’ll write it up.  Yes, that is very possible.

Instead I have a project to start.  Camp NaNo is getting closer, and I can smell the stale air in the cabin now.  I know we’ll need to air this sucker out, and with the nice weather of late, I’m hoping it stays cool enough to get some warm summer breezes through the windows and make this place smell like a field in the early summer morning.

It’s time to get into Scrivener and get a project started.  It’s time to do up the character sketches, which I’ve got in my mind but not on note cards.  I was up late speaking about the story with . . . let us say a collaborator, who will probably do her damnedest to keep me honest and not to stray from the straight and narrow of the story.  While she won’t be helping me write this story, you can bet I’ll feel her behind me, because she certainly helped develop it in such a way that I can get it out of my head.

I need a title.  I’ll have a title.  And then . . . well, we know where then is going.

At least I do.