Having a void, for now, of writing projects, is doing me good. I think occasionally of my novel, but more often my mind is full of the new baby, and getting ready.
Walking home from work yesterday, however, I saw the smallest something that triggered an idea for a short story - I explored ideas (most too easily come-by and predictable) on the rest of my walk, and scribbled ideas in one of my notebooks as soon as I got home. Turning the leaves of my notebook, I saw a scrap of an idea I'd had before - I'd written a whole first chapter, in fact (if you can call that a scrap) and the strange thing was, I have very little recollection of writing it. The simmering ideas I have for my second and third novel are nothing to do with this. It was an intriguing opening, and I can't, for the life of me, remember what was actually going on, and why this woman was in the fix she found herself. I found that quite exciting, and full of possibility.
In fact, I got quite fizzy-stomached thinking about it. I think some down-time between projects will become one of my 'must-haves'.
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