I talked some big game earlier about getting right on this and trying to finish this story early and so on and such. Unfortunately I’ve got Season One of House, M.D. at home and I can’t seem to stop watching it. Maybe I should write a story about a guy with a cane. Who’s coarse and teaches important lessons with unorthodox methods and thank god I finished “Three Lessons” before this show arrived in the mail or I’d have to wonder where Epp’s storyline came from. So, anyway, I can’t stop watching this House show.
Which is fine since it’s only Tuesday. Right? Maybe? At this point I’ve lost all reference points. I’m pulling stories out of nowhere in five, four, three days. I might possibly be writing a book in serial format. And it appears I’m getting really cocky. This is not good. Or maybe I’m scared.
See with all those other magic tricks where stories came out of nowhere, there was actually a somewhere. It was tiny, but it was there. A man with glasses at a wedding became, “Second Choice,” which then became “Three Lessons,” and a boy with dirty hair became, “Black Eyed Susan,” and a sock that turned pink became, “The Rags.” And, yes, those were all tiny little details. But they were…I don’t know…strong isn’t the right word. Powerful is more like it. They spoke to me. I’d get a flash of that kid with dirty hair (turns out it was sandy but whatever) or the guy at the wedding with glasses and I could hear distant voices and get a whiff or two of emotion. Like I was hiding in a closet while listening to a cocktail party. And as I tugged and tugged at those little details they finally popped open and I had stories.
But do you see the difference here? No detail. Nothing.
Should I be worried?