"You looked deep in thought..."

They always say that if you want to be a writer, you have to write every day. I usually do some form of writing on a daily basis, but not for my own books. Since the muse exploded over the weekend, I have been trying extra hard to work on something every day.

Tuesday nights were Taco Nights at the bar down the street, at least until last week. They are currently on hiatus, because of the smaller crowds. I went down, anyway, hoping to enjoy a nice hot bowl of soup on this insidiously cold night. (Windchill -7, what?)

I enjoy my meal while reading some chapters in a review book on my Kindle. I chat with my server, who has become a friend over these last few months. And then, I decide I am going to write. 

I have this thing about writing longhand. There is magic when that pen actually touches the paper, that is different from typing directly on the computer. Perhaps some day I will again outgrow that. For now, I am enjoying filling the pages of notebooks with my multicolored ink pens.

Tonight's WIP was a children's story that is based on my dogs. I have played around with the idea before, but tonight was the first time that their characters were really coming through.

In between paragraphs, I would stare at the TVs, absorbing bits of sports trivia, while thoughtfully chewing on my pen about the next part of the story. I was in a groove. And then I realized that the man standing under the TVs was actually talking to me.

"Are you writing poetry?"

Ah yes, how cliche. The lone girl chewing on her pen while writing in her notebook must be writing poetry.

"No, actually, I'm not."

"Oh, homework, then?" [I am 35, yet am regularly mistaken for a college student. I'll take it.]

"No, I'm working on some fiction and nonfiction books."

"Wow, really?"

The subsequent conversation consisted of the usual go-arounds that hint at uncovering my marital status. My favorite question is always, "Why aren't you married?"

That, in and of itself, could fill a few books, I am sure. I just always say that I have come close, but it hasn't been quite right, yet.

"I'm really surprised. You're beautiful."

Aw, shucks. Thanks.

At this point, the gentleman decides that he is going to get back to work in the kitchen. As he turns to leave, he says, "You looked deep in thought. That's why I had to come over and mess with you."

Thank you so much. I have now lost my train of thought. The puppies had just hit their dilemma and will have to saved at a later date. That's okay. It's about time for me to get home and unwind, anyway. And I can forgive you because you were trying to butter me up by telling me I was beautiful.

The train of thought never returned to the station, so now the story is stuck where it is. Ah well. I also came up with ideas for a couple more later installments. We shall see where I can get interrupted next...