Was the Hare really so bad?


I told you that I would fill you in this time on every little detail of the process in the hopes that I’d capture the exact moment when the mush in my brain became a story.  So here goes.

It occurred to me today that it might be fun to write a murder mystery.  Then it occurred to me that I’d never done that, didn’t know how to do that, and didn’t have the tiniest bit of a storyline to go with.  I do think it would be fun, but…well that third reason is a bit of a sticky wicket.  Just having the genre of Murder-Mystery in mind doesn’t really mean I could write one.  But that’s what is in my head.

Then, on the train ride home, there was this little guy…pretty meek, pretty old, seemed very nice.  I only caught a glimpse of him as he was walking the other way but it was enough.  When I got to my train I decided to put a hat on him.  Sort of one of those old time straw hats but not really.  Then I heard billiard balls clacking together.

And that’s what I’ve got.  I’m most excited about the billiard balls because that’s a very tangible image for me.  That sound they make when they hit.  I could see something coming out of that.  But right now my brain is moving about as fast as the little guy in the picture at the top of this post so I think I’ll just go scribble in my journal.