On Writing in Dismal Weather

On Saturday it threatened rain. On Sunday the rains came. Today, the rain continues. I look outside the sixth floor window, and rivulets of water run down the blue glass. York Road looks distant in the gloom.

A subway train broke down this morning in the tunnel. My train sat at West Cold Spring, the last stop above ground, for a good twenty minutes. A breeze blew through the train — the doors were left open — and a light rain fell against the windows. I had my clipboard of notebook paper out, and I wrote out some of the third chapter of “THOD.” None of it was right, I knew, and I was more interested in the sight of seagulls circling overhead than I was with a young boy bicycling through his hometown.

However, a character that I wasn’t expecting appeared on the page. He’s a minor character, a neighbor. If this were a movie made ten years ago, I imagine he would have been played by Ray Walston (Boothby from Star Trek: The Next Generation‘s “The First Duty” or Richard Kiley (Shazzerd the Martian from Star Trek‘s “Requiem for a Martian”). I “saw” his backstory, and I “saw” how his story ends, either in this chapter or in the fifth or sixth.

In any event, I have material enough to work with tonight when I get home.

I can’t ask for more on a dismal day like this, really. *shrug*

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