This week I wrote two scenes which I will never actually use, except as an FYI kind of thing. It felt good to get them into a word processor. I know the story is there, because I am crazy enough to have this living breathing completely imaginary person wandering about in my head. She is so vivid that I can't help but write her down, share her with someone who does not have the pleasure of frequenting the inside of my day dreams.
She and I are alike yet unlike each other. Our looks are completely divergent, her rich brown eyes and my hazels have little in common. She does not speak the way I do, but I find my self slipping further into her dialect. Right now I am the only person in the world that believes her to be real. There she is in my head, jeans, t shirt, and a pair of cowboy boots that hurt like hell when she wants to kick her way out. It's like having a baby, with my brain. It hurts like hell, but I can't help my self.
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