Slippery Slope

The past few days I’ve been quite busy. Not with writing, but preparing for writing, and no not even research. I’ve been rearranging furniture. I moved my bedroom outfit around (the bedroom doubles as my office) I cleared my old computer desk off and the newer one (the nice big one) and am swapping. I made room for it and bought a new bookcase, which is delightfully full of novels. Oh how I love looking at the books I own.

So then its all set up, organized, even partially decorated. Then I get onto to my writing and editing. That is when I take the step that is invariably leading me down a very slippery steep slope. Now that I have the room, I’ve started making notes to myself on sticky pads then sticking the notes to the wall. So far I’ve managed to have only three on the wall, but I feel the desire to place more, to vary the color depending upon the note. I feel the need to make maps and place them on the wall, to find pictures out of magazines for my locations and to print out my character pictures and push pin them to the wall as well.

In fact, I’m even looking forward to gazing at those items on my wall as much as I like looking at the books on my shelf. I anticipate feeling like a general of my own world. There I am, standing near my wall, dressed to the nines, with a long pointer indicating certain areas on the wall size map of the city my book is placed in. I point out the suspects and their most likely hiding place. I give the run down of what’s happened so far in the plot then look into my non existent audience to field questions. Except all that stares back at me is the bed I forgot to make when I woke up that morning. But nonetheless I am inspired by this daydream and now I’m off to search for maps on ebay.