I wrote almost 2,000 words of The Auctioneer today. I came up with something unbelievable - this really weird, kind of horrifying painting went up for auction, and some wacko bid over a hundred million dollars for it! You can make up the most ridiculous things when writing fiction.
Okay, it wasn't anything that exciting, but I did end up going in a different direction than the one I'd planned with the story. Sometimes I wish I could plot out a story and know where it's going, but I'm the type of writer that lets the characters dictate the story. It's kind of like walking a tightrope without a net. Except that there is almost no chance of me falling and being splattered all over the ground. So maybe it is nothing like walking a tightrope without a net, but it is exciting. I imagine writers who plot, who know each step of what will happen in the story, must become quite bored after awhile. On the other hand, they probably finish their stories much faster than I do.
My son Seth and I watched Rocky 2 tonight. I was planning on doing a little more writing after, but instead I ended up sitting on the couch, drinking a Shipyard beer. Seth was so pumped up from the movie that he went out and ran a mile at 9:15 at night. The folly of youth.
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