A friend remarked that she seems to write about the same thing in many of her stories and I started to think about that. Sometimes I'm a slow thinker but once in a while I have a flash. I'd think it was a hot flash, if I wasn't too old to have them. I seem to have an object fetish. When I write, I like to change the role of ordinary things like chocolate, or brushes or slippers and I guess I'm also fascinated by death and being near death and lost chances for love and connection. Just your typical writerly fascinations, I suppose.
I've been participating in an online discussion about what love is and men and women's different approaches to it. It's fascinating to read what some young people think love is. As for me, I'm in the same camp as Scott Peck. I think love is not primarily a feeling (though, believe me I enjoy the feeling) but an activity and an opportunity for spiritual development for both people.
Okay, that's more than enough high-falutin' philosophizing for one blog. It's time for nitty gritty things - like putting one sentence after another. Maybe I can even manage to write a whole paragraph without rereading and changing every sentence as I go along.
Maybe.
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