Ha! Fooled you! I never think deep thoughts!
No, of course I do. And this one is, well, deep-ish. But it really surprised me, so here we go.
Friday night, as I mentioned, I went to talk to a book group in the area. And it was a blast; I really had a good time, everyone was nice, most of them knew & liked my work (there were a couple of teens there for school extra credit, which I wouldn’t have expected them to read my books), they asked great questions, and I admit, heh, I gave them a few extra bits of information about a few things.
Anyway, it was awesome. And at some point I got asked the inevitable did-you-always-want-to-be-a-writer question. To which my answer is always yes, and a little bit about some of the other things I wanted to do (race-car driver, actress, professional killer, that sort of thing; y’know, typical stuff), and then about how I was a stay-home mom when I finally decided to give the writing thing a try, and how much I really enjoyed being a stay-home mom. Which I did.
(Digression: I’ve never understood people who think it would be “boring” to not have a paying job outside the home. Um, really? No, of course it wasn’t. See, funnily enough, I’m actually capable of entertaining myself; I don’t need constant stimuli to keep me happy like a baby under a mobile.)
Anyway. They asked if I’d always told myself stories, which I didn’t quite get at first, until they elaborated a bit. Like in bed at night before I fell asleep, did I used to tell myself stories.
Of course I did. I did it every night. I still do. I plan the next day’s writing, or scenes for later pop into my head, or plot issues work themselves out, or whatever. And if I’m not working I’m thinking of new stories and ideas, looking for one that really grabs me. I even remember some of the stories I told myself when I was a kid (they usually involved me being rescued by my current crush on a horse. Hey, I was eight when I came up with that one, give me a break). When my girls go to bed, and Faerie insists she’s not tired and starts pouting because it will take so long for her to fall asleep (ha, it’s usually more like ten minutes, tops), I’ve always told her to lay there and think up a story to tell herself. Because, well, that’s what people do, right?
So that’s my question. Did you, do you, do that, and tell yourself stories before you go to sleep? Or is that unusual?
Having some fun with Downside 4. I thought I had a title for it–I really loved it–but the PTB want something “more,” maybe a bit sexier and more exciting, so it’s back to the drawing board for me, sigh. This is where I start throwing my hands up in the air and saying things like, “Why don’t I just call it THERE’S FUCKING IN THIS BOOK? Is that sexy enough?”
(Note I don’t blame the PTB for this at all; I’m just being funny here. But it is a bit…sigh.)
(Also, now I want to write a book with that title. Maybe it would go with the ridiculously anachronistic historical romance I’ve always thought it would be a hoot to write, the one where characters wish cars had been invented already so they didn’t have to walk, and Regency rakes say things like, “You’re bringing me down!” Well, it’s funny to me. I’ve had to fight the constant urge to put stuff like that in the few historicals I’ve written.)
Also, last night the hubs and I went to see the theater re-release of BACK TO THE FUTURE. Awesome. It’s funny, I’ve seen the movie dozens of times since I first saw it in the theater, but I don’t remember it being that much fun, you know? You forget a lot of the little things. And it helped that the audience with us was amazing. We seriously wanted to hug them all when the movie was done; they were all into it, they were all as excited as we were, they laughed and cheered and clapped at all the right moments and they kept their mouths firmly shut the rest of the time, which as I’m sure you know, is pretty rare these days). So, AMC North Point audience, thank you!
That’s it for today. But I really am curious about the bedtime story thing; do you or not? And do you write (I know a few of you do)?