I met a friend for coffee this morning but I wasn’t very good company. Every once in a while she’d abruptly point out . . .
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?” I asked innocently.
“You’re day dreaming,” she said with a look of exasperation.
“Sorry.”
But I’m not. Not day dreaming that is. You see this morning I woke up knowing I had to get to know someone and that someone was not my very nice and patient friend sitting across from me at Starbucks. The person nagging my thoughts away from my Starbucks friend was an imaginary friend. Kind of.
My mind has been drifting in and out of thoughts focused on my next book and the physical aspects of a character and her unique complexities. What makes her tick. She’s not the protagonist but she’ll definitely have a big role. She's demanding one. Needling my subconscious in a small, persistent voice. Her whispers haven’t gone unnoticed. Like an actress vying for more lines, she wants me to understand her importance in the weeks ahead.
Shhh . . . I hear her now.
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