Dishes and laundry are never ending, impossible to win, mind numbing chores. And I hate chores. Always have. Always will.
But, last night, my dishes had found their way into my sink. Seriously. I think they breed there. I didn’t have a chance to write a single word during the day and had planned to write after dinner.
But the dishes. Oh. The dishes.
My writing space is in the kitchen. And all I could see were the dishes, food crunchifying on their surfaces.
I got up, turned on the faucet, and started scrubbing. Do I need to add that this was the second load of dishes for the day? Or is that just something we all understand? Stinking breeding dishes.
I turned on Pandora (I know…I’m so 2007…whatcha gonna do about it?).
I’ve been listening to a lot of Bluegrass lately. A. Lot. It’s what gets me into the mode of writing this new novel.
Scrubbing dishes. Banjo twanging. Rinsing cups. Voice lilting.
Mind on a daydream vacation.
I don’t mind washing dishes when my imagination drifts.
I thought of my character and her friend. Remembered a story I heard that inspired me. Heard my protagonist’s voice, hollering at her friend (a happy holler).
The beginning of the novel popped into my head.
And, I think, it’s a good beginning. It sets the mood. Gets the reader ready for what I want them to experience. Invites them into the story world of my protagonist.
Oooo. I can’t wait to tell you about this novel. But I’m not ready quite yet. I think you might just like it!
Now. Off to write!