The treatment I had yesterday wiped me out today. This afternoon I lay on the couch and by turn watched tennis, snored, woke myself snoring, watched tennis, was woken by the dog barking, and snored. It was the sleep of a body requiring oblivion as a means of rest. when I finally got a complete hour it worked the primal magic that sleep on the level of stage two or three manages. Extremely deep. On waking I was unsure of time or day.
What has this to do with writing? Yesterday I sketched out a plan of action for my story. I have split it into seven sections – four of these tell the story of Odette, and her doomed love affair with Remigio, the other three are infill chapters which tell the tale a traditional tale of how the salty lake came to exist.
As with yesterday it was a day where not writing was the easier option. I demurred, and added another 570 words to the tapestry of this tale. So far it is all based around Odette. It is also a dedicated attempt to write emotional content. As someone with Aspergers a lack of emotion is a something I hear about my writing on many occasions. When I read the pieces back I see where the feeling is, but they are on a level other than that which a majority of the populace operate. So, I’m endeavoring to explain more of the characters internal world, what they feel and think, and why.
I like that I now have a clear idea of what is happening with the story, and why. How it deviates from that will be a different matter, but I’ll cross that bridge as I come to it.