Twenty-twenty hindsight tells me I should have seen my doctor sooner. But I did not associate the odd issues I was experiencing with a specific illness. After I finally made an appointment in June I embarked on a medical “adventure” that lasted the remainder of 2024. Doing okay now — but I was benched for a while there.
I did manage to peck away at my umpteenth edit of Quest for the Thing and I’m nearly done with it. And I muddled around with ideas for The Crystal Sword, my latest story idea. I settled on photos grabbed off the Internet for the main characters, and I’ve gone through several iterations of names for the characters. I have a secret background for the main character, an idea for the opening scene, and a concept for the climactic scene. Lots to figure out for what happens in between.
Nothing like reading other books inside and outside the genre of the novel-in-progress (or hope to be in progress) for story ideas. I started taking notes from a popular YA novel on family dynamics within a rich household. And got a nonfiction book about a very powerful medieval family to study for political machinations as well as family dynamics. I received a copy of Percival Everett’s James for Christmas and decided to reread the origin story, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, before starting James. Man, it has been awhile! Like reading it for the first time. But it’s given me some potential plot ideas. From the rural southern slave states of the U.S. to a fantasy novel with centaurs? Well, very general ideas for moving the characters about.
The dog remains neurotic — my anxious little Sheltie should have been named Busby Berkeley for the major production he makes out of every little thing.
The horse is now free range on the boarding stable grounds and living the Life of Riley. He primarily likes hanging out in the arena with the trainer during lessons. He just turned 30 and isn’t as spry as he used to be to avoid the pasture shenanigans. To prevent additional minor (so far) injuries he had a free range trial period that he passed. Other retirees at the barn have enjoyed similar privileges. I’ve always called him a goober — and he’s proving to be even more so than I thought.
Now to return to my usual pursuits following my adventurous detour.
Mary S. Potter 