Dear Reader,
I was minding my own business, sitting outdoors at an uptown café when the idea for my next novel came up and bit me and Word Raccoon on the nose.
Not literally, of course, but it did. I cannot wait to research it!
This explains why my other novel is wrapping itself up, Word Raccoon, even though it doesn’t look like it. I mean, the pieces are there but so much work remains, but that’s okay because NOVEL FOUR is percolating!
I hate to be coy about novel topics, I do, but also I need to be further into it before I share anything. And who knows, this might be a caffeine and Coke Zero fueled imagination spree? (When I arrived at the other café today – the Monday-when-I-can café – I spied Coke Zero in the cooler and the owner walked over and smiled and I said what is this I see in the cooler? And obviously WR had to buy it and make a Dirty Coke Zero and now she’s bouncing in her seat and someone came by and sat down and talked with her and WR insisted on talking about the damned ceiling tiles she’s still working on and yes, that’s this week’s Leviathan.)
Ooh, WR says wouldn’t it be fun to co-write a novel? Strong, lyrical sentences with just the right details unspooled at exactly the right time, paired with a deluge of ideas and scenes? Stawwppp it, WR! That’s too delicious.
And I suspect it’s obvious which writer WR would be, LOL. Witness this post!
It would take just the right writing partner. Probably unrealistic, but nevertheless aspirational.
I just made a list of places WR and I must, must visit for this novel.
WR also wrote a poem, “Shakespeare in the Park,” because ever since she saw The Tempest performed in the park in Nashville she thinks there is no more perfect way to spend an evening than outdoors watching theater. She has threatened to found a Shakespeare in the Park organization herself locally but WR says too many irons and all that and we really need to focus but we do like projects rather than ongoing obligations. Obligations make us fuss and want to foment just a little.
There is a light breeze outside at the café, some shade for writing, poems, novel ideas…and then home to tackle five more tiles.
(We managed only four, because the cutting takes so long! Measure, remeasure, be sure it’s turned the right way – we ruined two not paying attention to that; use scissors then a utility knife and then back to scissors and when you climb the ladder and try to fit it in you know it’s not going to go in on the first try and then you trim and shimmy and whew, finally! Did we get bonked on the head by falling plaster? Lightly, yes. But we weren’t hurt, so there’s that.)
Two gentlemen walked by the café while I was there, one singing a silly song he made up with my name in it?? WR growled and I whispered that the man was perfectly harmless and WR’s eyes widened when he placed a tiny 3D printed squirrel on our table and asked if I would give it some water, and that we could keep the little guy. I said I could offer it Coke Zero, and WR grabbed the tiny treasure and reminded me that we are looking for a miniature curio cabinet at thrift shops.
Anyhow, WR wants SO BADLY to spill the novel four beans but no, not yet. Not here. You can/may ask me if you see me IRL, though.
Drema