O brave new world

Friday night, lying in bed waiting for sleep and listening to the sound of sleety rain hitting the windows, the first line of Betty's story came to me. So I got out of bed, went upstairs, turned on my computer and wrote the first line. The first line turned into a first paragraph, then a second, then a scene. I've now got about five pages of story. On the plus side, I know how this one ends, which is a rarity for me entering the story. On the down side, I know how it ends, which is usually a temptation for me to walk away from a project.

I like the adventurous nature of writing. I like setting out at the edge of the forest with no compass, only my knife, a water bottle and a box of matches, and seeing where my feet take me. I think that's why I always write about places other than my hometown or homestate, about people who are very different from me. I already know me. I already know where I live. If I wouldn't want to read about my home and me, why would I want to write about them either?

Of course, that might explain why I sell so few stories.