It’s a book. Rose’s mom has a name, Belinda, and a voice. Dad’s hanging out in the background waiting for his turn, and not very patiently, either. Belinda is not my mom. She’s got a piece of me I can build the character on, which is how I like it. I even think I have the 70s figured out. The ideas are coming faster than I can write them down. Along with scenes, I need an idea page.
Now if only I could move to the west coast, perferrably with an ocean view. Then the writing would really flow. Actually, I am sooo tired of setting stories in Michigan. I am tired of Michigan winter. It snowed again last night. Always on Tuesday night, when I have class. I think we’re well over 50 inches of the pretty white stuff for this year. Enough already.
But in the gratitude department, I’m roses today. I got me a new book.
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