It's been a good week for writing, a good couple of weeks. I've made some progress, getting from point A to point B without too many distractions (ie: Real Life). When I'm writing so much, blogging often falls by the wayside. Such is life, I suppose. Also, I find it's hard when my job has me spending eight hours a day in front of the computer, to stay in front of the computer to compose a post (I'm writing mostly by hand at the moment). I thought this week I'd share a bit of what I wrote from my work-in-progress, totally rough and unedited... written maybe three days ago.
As I sat in the car, I felt an emptiness in my stomach. How had it gotten to be so close to dinner time? I had spent so much of my Saturday with Ben and Kaitlyn. I glanced over at Ben, his brow slightly creased as he weaved through traffic. I looked back out the window at the cars speeding by, the shops along the street, the people on the sidewalk. Everything looked the same but didn’t. Any of them could be anyone. Any of them could have shot my nieghbours. Anything could happen, even in quiet downs light mine. What were their stories? Were they connected to Ben’s? Connected to mine? There was a plot twist out there, somewhere.