The doctor’s office had a great big saltwater fishtank, in fact the largest* I have ever seen outside of a zoo, and I thought that would entertain him (it certainly did me). But he was not interested. All he wanted to do was run around, explore, climb stairs, press elevator buttons, and see if there was anything he could destroy.
So I got absolutely no writing done. Later, though, I grabbed a mini-notebook I used to carry around in my biggest winter coat (I wrote “Know When To Walk Away,” “Shoveling Match,” “Outgoing Transmissions,” “Hilton Helps the Hopeless,” and a story I didn’t recognize in it.** I used to bring a similar notebook with me when I’d go to (or sneak into) movies in Los Angeles, so I could write during the wait before they started, and maybe I should again.
Anyway, I came awfully close to finishing the second “Lara and the Witch” story, but didn’t. I introduced a doctor, and wanted to give her an unusual name, but when I told Big what it was, he did not seem to think that would fly. He may be right, but it’s more important that I finish the scene and write the final scene in the story, and then, those most important two words.
P.S. By that, I mean “Tomorrow, I will,” not “Tomorrow is the most important two words in writing.” Duh.
Words Total: 29,385
**It was weird. I read through it a little just now. It’s about a guy who is picking up a woman he just met for a date, and a little girl answers the door. He is surprised, since the date didn’t mention she had a daughter, but the little girl behaves in a very peculiar, unchildlike way, and it tests the guy’s patience to the point where he suspects this is a prank or some kind of test the woman does to see if a man’s worthy to go out with her. But it turns out that the woman doesn’t have a daughter . . . and that no little girl lives in the house. Again, I have no memory of writing it, but it’s totally the kind of thing I write, and it’s in my handwriting.