I spent the last few weeks not writing, not because I had no interest in it but because the world got more interesting.
As we used to say in market research, "IN WHAT WAY?"
The groundhog emerged from hibernation, which is always a treat. I really don't think it needs to get more interesting than that. It's not that he emerged, it's that nobody seems to know where he emerged from.
But my typewriter fingers are itchy lately and the inevitable 'gee, it's too nice to stay inside and write' is probably gonna do me in. Maybe not.
I wrote a raunchy 240-page novel a dozen years ago about a guy who wins the lottery and runs into a whole series of miscreants, thieves, buggers and deviants on his way to nowhere sensible. I liked the book, some of the characters and the plot.
I think I might try that plot idea again with a different motive in mind. I always wondered what would become of me if I ever won the lottery. Most of us wonder that. I think it's odd that we all say we wouldn't change. In real life, you would. In my book, I don't have to. The fun part of creating characters based on yourself is that you can make it anything you like.
See, what doubles as writing or story-telling is a matter of taking the mundane, adding two somewhat interesting people, have them do something and off you go. The guy winning the lottery has many more options in such a story.
I like options. You meet the strangest people on the way to the park.
Winning the lottery is not mundane but you still need to deal with groundhogs, who do not need the money.
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