The other night I made it down to the Narre Warren library, which is a fifty minute round trip and open until 9pm. I'm glad I told you I'd go, because it was the kind of night that tempts one to stay home near the fire in pyjamas. With a good supply of tokay nearby.
I took only the two things I said I would. I started on the first, short one that should have been easier. After forty-five minutes and two very different beginnings, I gave up, drew an asterisk beside the one I thought was probably better and decided to leave it until today, assuming the thoughts would have had time to settle.
Then I started on the story. I was too tired to write an actual story, so I tried something a little different, and wrote a story outline. So not my usual thing, although neither is the way this story came to me. I spent a little over an hour making the outline, seven scenes, and let myself write anything that seemed relevant, even the tiniest detail. I felt it all coming together, the kind of feeling I might have when I'm working on pieces that I know are worth pursuing. I think (hope) I wrote enough that it'll be easy when I write the actual thing.
On the way home I got to test my new night sight when my headlights lit up a wombat in the middle of my lane. In the 100km zone. All turned out well.
Today, the plan was to properly attack the two pieces from Tuesday night. So far, I have written a poem, completely separate, written the piece due tomorrow, using the version I asterisked, completed and returned the second (and final) edit for my EWF Reader piece, and if it wasn't time to think about lunch, I'd make a start on the seven-scene story. I couldn't possibly write while hungry.
Oh, and I changed my mind about no events this weekend – heading to this tomorrow.