My mind has wandered off.  It is somewhere between Orphan Black and The Magicians.

There are times, during my commute or at work, when I can steer my thoughts to my story. The imagery of the countryside, the fog rolling in thick clouds over the asphalt, a piano interlude.  No it's not a classic piano memory recall collage.  It's actually deep and heavy base, British accents, and the occasional gritty New York band.

It's paralyzing, not knowing character names.  Trying to build dialogue without dialect, without physical features, without a face. I've begun to wonder if it's because her story starts before she's born, before it's her story. When you look at a child and you think you have an idea of what they'll look like as an adult, but you can't actually.  I don't know why it's so important to see her as a child.  I'm building a whole different world in my head, a place all it's own.  You would think I should be focusing on putting that to paper.  Why is her face so important?  What is in a name?

I think tomorrow I'll read more quotes from the literary legends. I've seen so many about the writing process itself, hopefully there will be more specific quotes out there about what to do when you have other worlds forming inside your head. 

Labels: BBC America loves women, Orphan Black, The Magicians, writing, writing process