After getting fired, I took what most people would call a vacation, and I suppose it was. (It will eventually be chronicled on my main blog, you should know.) On the last leg of the trip, I met a man, and it seemed like a good short story. I mentally composed it on the way home Tuesday, (did you know that both Mark Twain and Walt Disney grew up in Missouri?!) but didn't actually start composing it until later in the week. Like Thursday or Friday. Unfortunately, a lot had happened in those few days, and the magic of the story had faded a little.
The buildup wasn't coming out as extemporaneous as I would like it to be, so I stopped. I think I was afraid of disappointing myself with the ending. I came up with a pretty great one, but I'm a little bit scared that what I actually write is going to not meet my expectations.
Since writing those two paragraphs a couple of days ago, an idea has come to me that took the story from the realm of what actually happened and made it a little more fictional, albeit still believable. Pretty much, instead of just eating dinner at home, we eat dinner in a hospital because that makes for a more interesting story.
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My reading took off when I lost my job. So fast, that my blog couldn't keep up with it. (Good thing for the goodreads app, since I nearly lost track of what I read.)
So fast that I had to screech the breaks on "The Diva Runs Out of Thyme" so I could finish "Saviors on Mount Zion." Normally I try not to manipulate my rotisserie like that, but I really did not want to shelve that last book. I'm hoping I'll finish it sometime today, which means I replace it with another True. Not a big fan of that, and I'll probably also finish "Thyme" today and starting two books within a day of each other is not on my list of favorite things, either. But it was worth it to stay loyal to my guidelines and still finish.
