The Tales that Never Reached the Page

Up bright and early, I reached the city by 9am, and settled with a hazelnut latte in the muse-house Borders, poring over ready-written text and slowly digging deeper into the tales as I awaited Mark’s arrival. We planned to write, all day, until the writing group met, two floors below, at 7. The day, so bright and warm, was full of promise as only a day of creation can be. I happily wallowed in words, alone, until 11, where I left my velvet armchair for the office of The Agency by whom I’m now employed. Things moved quickly here, finding work in 2 establishments which I already know. Soon, I was back in borders with a redeye, to shake Madame Muse to her most attentive state.

Still no Mark, though, so I teased and provoked the words alone.

At almost 3, Mark joined me, and we spent a joyous hour and a half with Blood Omen; Mark ripping conscientious wounds into its flesh, and me intermittently defending its choices as any parent should. Thanks, Mark, if you read this.

Mark went off to listen to speakers for a while, and I had a trauma with my mobile phone, and then, when he returned I returned the favour with Marco’s Spanish Diaries, talons caressing the body of it. By the time we’d finished, we had barely time to eat and read over a couple of older pieces in the group’s joint story-in-the-making. And then it was Group Time. A successful session where, with unneeded apologies, Mike also added flesh-wounds to the first 5 pages of Blood Omen (Thanks!) and Mark replayed his attack. It’s harder to defend your work in front of larger groups, as you often get top-heavy opinions.
We revisited the To Read or Not To Read dispute, and other people shared their tales; which were great, by the way. I love being around my clan.