ONe of my problems with being a disciplined writer (which obviously, I'm not) is that I have too many ideas all jostling for attention in my brain, which renders me incapable of concentrating on any one at a time.
I tend to do my thinking whilst out walking our dog, Dermot, a gorgeous white/brindle boxer crossed with American bulldog, crossed with pointer (we think). I take a bit of paper and a pen, and periodically stop to jot down little snippets which I know I'll forget if I just say them to myself all the way round the walk over and over and over. Even if I repeat them about 1000 times, they're still lost by the time I get home. Hence, the necessity of pen and paper.
This is what I wrote down last time:
The Cleaning Lady: 'Thought I recognised you...' Her very plucked eyebrows shot up.
Sophie: Instead of saying, I know that now', have her saying 'I understand that now'.
Dermot: A man picked up an iron bar and waved it at Dermot. He was scared. The man was growling.
These are three of the projects I'm currently juggling. THe most important is the Sophie one, because that is to be my dissertation piece, but as a break from the relentlessness of that, I am writing a scary story about a cleaning lady who takes over the entire life of an elderly man, and a book about our beloved dog.
Argghhhhh. My brain is going to explode, in fact, I think it just has.
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