Writing and Michigan Basements

Okay, I lied. "Men in Trees" wasn’t on last night, but it is still scheduled for Wednesdays at 10 p.m. I don’t do reality shows, but a woman going to the Alaskan wilderness (for all its craziness) is a little more up my alley.

Played hooky from school today to stay home and write. Spent a lot of time on poems and not a lot of time with Taylor, a character I’ve been spending a lot of time with the past few months. Late nights with Taylor and her friends talking to me have been some of the most fulfilling of my life (and yeah, I know how delusional that sounds, I’m a writer and not the first one to say they hear characters talking). There is just something incredibly comforting about the hurries and flurries of the day being over, being in my jammies, a cup of green tea (or whisky, depending on the day), and just writing down the stories that float around in my head like moths all day long. Snatches of dialogue, looks and feelings. This story that is mine, but exists somewhere beside, somewhere apart from me. I suppose that is why our stories are like children, they begin as part of us, but eventually we do not know them at all, looking up one day and wondering how they got so tall and strong all on their own. When did that mole get there and where did that scar come from? It grows out and apart from you.

It rained a lot today, on another note. And is supposed to rain more tomorrow. We’re not sure where it is going to go with all the moisture all ready, but it always finds someplace. Dad is working tonight on getting the basement subpump to work so we can start pulling water out of the basement. Michigan basements, gotta love ‘em.