. . .and I get continually better at procrastination, as evidenced by my multiple postings today.
After firing up Word, I managed to go nuke a slice of pizza. Then of course I needed to go to the garage for a Pepsi (even though I rarely drink soda/pop/fizzy/whatever you want to call it, pizza does scream for it) and although I watched carefully to make sure Emmett was behind the door and not going out it, when I reached down for the Pepsi, there he was beside me. I swear he walks through walls sometimes. Then I needed another slice of pizza and Trilly needed some, so I had to share. Then I decided to face the fact that I was cold and lower the blind over that window that doesn't seem to have glass and go get a heavy sweatshirt. It was finally time to write - I had surfed, blogged, and run out of excuses. So I came to blog some more. At least I haven't resorted to cleaning the fridge yet.
Yesterday Fishy and Prawn had a multitude of Star Wars guys out and there was a giant police-lineup-looking row of clone troopers/storm troopers standing against the couch. I'm not sure what Fishy was doing with them, but Prawn had what appeared to be a collection of Anakins (there are so many different ones, YK, Lightsaber-Action Anakin, Head-Turtles-Into-Body-So-You-Can-Put-On-His-Cape-With-Attached-Mask Anakin, Burnt-and-Missing-Parts Anakin with Rebuild Parts, etc. etc.) and was singing (in a deep voice) "Down once more to the dungeons of my bwack despaiw, down we PWUNGE to the pwison of my mind!" while one of the Anakins marched about looking particularly disturbed. Maybe it was more Phantom Menace of the Opera. I really need to eavesdrop on their play more. Maybe I'll get some writing ideas.
Characters on whom I had not planned are wandering into my story. I tried telling the last one to sod off, but I don't think she's listening. The one before her was serendipitous - provides more dialogue - but I'm not sure I can allow the newcomer to stay. If she refuses to make a graceful exit, I may have to get a little forceful with her. What do you think - falling piano? Rabid ferret? Maybe I can do an Adamsonian "but this is not her story" thing with her. Then again, I have to give her a little more time, because she does actually have some potential. And the man who wandered in may turn out to be someone I met in passing earlier in the story. In fact I'm almost certain of it. Strange how these things happen. I guess it's time to rework the outline a little. That's a kind of procrastination, too, so I guess it's OK.