I’m writing. [Indigo Romeo Lima] is moving along. I’m enjoying it, mostly. Why mostly? Because first-drafts are HARD. I’m not building on anything, I’m creating the foundations and the framing and cladding some of the walls. Some walls will be left in building paper while I write the rest and hope it all comes together!
I’ve got people coming out the wazoo. Names. Dates. Places. Some are recognisable. I’m trying to work out why the hell they were there. It looks like they were in specific places, or maybe they weren’t.
I can keep this up all day … talk about the story but tell you nothing. That’s about as talky as I get when I’m working.
A couple of people might hear a few details if I need feedback on anything before running with it.
Mostly though I keep my story to myself and Diesel. He is party to all of it. Every character. Every scene. Every word. He listens while his eyebrows dance in judgement. 🙂
My notebook has gotten out of hand. I’ve somehow forgotten to run lines through scenes I’ve included in [IRL] and pretty sure I’ve used most of them. That’s a bit annoying. I’ll do search later and see what’s what.

Something big happened in [IRL] late yesterday. That should make today’s writing session pretty easy. Words should flow.
See how I used the word ‘should’?
It hasn’t. Not at all.
My brain is on strike. Apparently the work conditions aren’t ideal. I think it’s been hanging out with Diesel, Patrick, and Dallas too much.

Here are some raw words for you. Yes, I did have to search to find something that gave fuck all away. 🙂

I side-stepped shoppers and hurried past Muffin Break. Someone called out what I thought was my name. I glanced over to see Nana’s friend Pat waving. I waved hello and kept going. No time for chit-chat.
I used the internal stairs in Farmers and arrived on the top floor without seeing anyone else I knew. Then I scanned the departments looking for Bill. Sure enough he was looking at crockery. I perused the other side of the stand and held up a plate so he could see it.
“Why?” Bill asked, picking up a different plate and weighing it in his hands before replacing it on the stand.
“Because it’s a nice pattern,” I replied and put it down again.
He picked up a milk jug and put it down, then inspected one with a different design. 
“What do you need?”
“An answer to a puzzle,” I said and showed him a plate I quite liked. Reds, oranges, and yellows in an abstract blocky pattern with a gold border.