I have an unquiet mind. I always have. Like a duck, I look calm and under the water (or in this case in my skull) I’m paddling away frantically.
I spend a lot of time in my own head, working out ideas and theories. Trying on endings to stories. I get the most out of this practice when I’m on the bus on my way home and I am listening to an audiobook and crocheting.
I keep my eyes on the neat orderly rows of stitches in my crochet project and as they spool out, ideas and my thoughts tend to spool with them. Something about seeing something so orderly helps keep my thoughts more linear than they are normally and thus I’m not quite so scattered.
Last night I was contemplating werewolves. I’ve not written werewolves much and I want mine to have a very particular culture. I don’t have much for them yet but I’ve enjoyed pecking at it.
A snippet from the rewrite of a story I’m calling Secret Girl. It will get a new name.
Everyday I battle my instincts, I smile, I try not to look like a freak. I try to at least seem like one of them, like the girl they think they hired. It’s hard and I’m always scared the mask will slip.