Where'd That Body Come From?

The girls think I’m quirkier than normal and give me the looks that tell me so.  Like the other day when I left my study in total frustration, walked to the kitchen and dropped into the bar stool at the counter.  The girls looked at me wondering what idiot pissed me off in the webisvere where I spend way too much time as it is.

"I thought you were writing," Char ventured.  “Was I making toast too loud again?”

"I was.  Now, I'm not."

Teri stared at me cautiously.  "What happened?  You were by yourself."

I’m a writer.  I’m never by myself. I skip that part of the question and  answer the more relevant portion.  "A body.  Right in the middle of the road.  Out of nowhere, a body shows up.”  I'm frustrated and disgusted.  The girls are merely confused and wondering if they should call 911 or Bellevue.  They suffer that mixed feeling a lot.


"You weren't outside.” I give them that look that I'm sure frustrated writers everywhere give to those in their house at one time or another.  It's a look that says, "You don't get it."

"Not outside.  In my story.  Maisyn's on a trip north and right there in the middle of the road is a body.  Who is it?  How did the person get there?  Is he alive or dead?"

"You don't know?"

"No, I don’t know.  I left before the scene was finished.” My thumb is tapping the counter, which the girls have told me is never good and which I never knew I did.  Quirky.

Char reaches over and pats my hand.  "Sweetheart, aren't you the one writing the scene?"

I just look at her.  People, who don't write, don't know.  Characters are not one dimensional creatures or a formation of words on paper.  Characters are people, living, breathing people.  Okay, so some are aliens or animals or robots or mutant earthworms, but they're still alive.  They think, they feel, they talk to me and I to them and that sometimes scares the people around me.  This was a simple trip.  Go into the Wilds, bring back a magician and save the king.  Now, I have to wonder who this person is in the middle of the road.

"But, Honey, you're the writer."

Well, yes and no.  When a preacher preaches he claims the Holy Spirit comes and speaks his message through him.  With a writer, the characters tell the story through his pen.  They're either real or they're lifeless and who wants to read about lifeless people unless, of course, you're a coroner and then that's textbook.  So, Maisyn was telling his part of the story and saw a body.  I didn't even know it was happening until he came upon it.  I was shocked!  So was he when he took the unknown to see a healer and began undressing this person and discovered the body was female.  Now, I was really confused.  So was Maisyn.

The girls sniffed my coffee and sent me back to my writing.  Yet, this kind of thing happens to me all the time. Like right now, I was writing an essay based on the auto correct function on my iTouch when it diverted itself into this essay.  I was baffled and my essay was hi-jacked.  The two don't really go together and this one has nothing to do with the point I was trying to make over there.  So, Maisyn's discovered female was messing up another work.  Women.

Still, life, for me, is a lot like writing.  I have this outline in my mind of how I wanted it to start and where I want it to end before it does actually end.  Then, there's a body in the road.  Okay, maybe it's not a real body unless you're into more than I want to know about, but you discover the equivalent.  Perhaps it was a baby that wasn't planned that shot onto the scene.  For me it was three.  Each of my boys were surprises, albeit good ones.  Yet, they were the bodies that changed my story.  For others it may be an illness or even a death. Perhaps, it's a loss of job or friends turning their backs.  It could have been an event that took everyone by surprise but now the story has changed and a new course is set.  There's no going back.  I suggested it once when the boys started coming and Char was totally against the notion of putting them back.  Never accommodating.

The body was there and Maisyn had to deal with it.  My bodies were there and I dealt with them and my life changed course as did those around me.  As I sat back down at the desk and finished writing the scene, Maisyn discovered Jaci and the story grew sweeter and stronger.  Once I dealt with my "bodies", mine did as well.  My life is different than it was three years ago and it's stronger and sweeter.  I've been able to accomplish things that I only dreamed about doing and reaching people that before would have been strangers forever.

Rolling that body over wasn't easy.  It was scary as hell, actually.  However, it made all the difference in the world.


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