We laughed. We joked. Made fun of the tiny dictator from the east. At least he waited for the spring when the songbirds returned.
Who knows if this message will actually make it through. We’ve still got a connection here in flyover country, but we know it’s only a matter of time. North Korean troops followed the bombs within a day. We aren’t so far from Austin in the grand scheme of things.
This message is dangerous. I’ll have to disappear once it posts. I’m going underground. Surely we can mount some kind of resistance. I can’t tell you what to look for, but there will be signs if you are looking. Can’t stop the signal.
If only there was snow. I could really use some coffee.
A few of you that know me in real life, know that from time to time I’ve tossed around the idea of writing a little fiction. Maybe I’m just enamored with the idea of bindings and the shuffle of pages and the idea of my name on a cover. Oh how I love the smell of the library. Well, at least when the bums aren’t there.
Problem is, everytime I’ve started on a story, I’ve psyched myself out and put it away. It’s never been a big deal because no one else knew I was working on it. Therefore I’m the only one hearing the voices of partially developed characters crying out for attention.
And then I had this dream which I had to share with my husband. It sounded like a great premise for a story. I rolled it around in my head for a few days and told him that I thought I was going to play with it and see where it went. So I snatched up a new spiral notebook and began to make some basic story notes. And then I put it down. But my still unnamed protagagonist kept pestering me.
And then last night over a serving of bourbon (not the first of the evening), I decided to catch up on the MHI fan fiction currently being posted at the gun counter. Before I knew it, I had posted something to the effect of, “I’ve been fermenting a little story idea. I’ll share once it’s ready.” And then realized that I’d just promised a bunch of guys that I was actually going to work on this story and not let it join the others in the great pile of procrastination. This is the same forum that decided to track me down when I was not so active for a while. Not that I’m difficult to track down.
So I figured I had better actually work on it. With bourbon in hand, I grabbed my spiral notebook and a pencil. I know, so very low-tech of me. Meh. There’s something satisfying about having actual paper in my hands with words written on it. And I wrote 6 pages before going to bed. I haven’t looked at them yet today, so it may be crap, but it exists. And is potentially legible. Maybe. And I might have to give ghost writing credit to Elijah Craig. At least some acknowledgement somewhere.
It doesn’t have anything even resembling a title yet, and I’m not ready to offer any teasers. Hell, I don’t really even know what genre it falls under. I haven’t even settled on a name for anything other than the goldfish. I figured I should jump in over my head while sober and mention it here too. I’ll keep you updated on my progress and share it when it is ready for that. That may require some help from my buddy, Elijah Craig.