I’ve been reading a story in serial form, a new chapter waiting for me online every morning. It’s written by another blogger with a lot more experience (and followers) than me. Which isn’t hard since I’m here in the dark and quiet, in the recliner, with my laptop, and I’m just thinking out loud. Well, accompanied by the sound of the typing, and the clock ticking. That other people may find it and read it is nice, but it’s not the point exactly.
In the serial the main character has come upon an old typewriter and he has discovered that whatever he types on it the night before is the reality that he wakes up to in the morning. What an interesting premise that is. I sit and write at night, what if I could just write my way into whatever fantasy I’ve been thinking about? It boggles the mind a bit, but me being me what comes to mind are my musings about life in an RV. Not unlike this author’s premise, in my fantasy my little trailer is magically parked in a spot with a fabulous view. Something with either a sunrise or sunset right outside the door. And I explore to my heart’s content, taking pictures. Period. I’ve been enjoying this particular daydream for years, without ever trying to imagine how the trailer has gotten to that lovely spot. It’s the imaginary destinations that I crave, not the gritty day-to-day work of getting from point A to point B. Soon I’ll be forced to figure all of that out, daunting as that may be. If only it could be as easy as “If I write it it will come.”
But there are places to go and people to meet. They are really out there, they aren’t just in my head. Like this place, Bass River, which caught my eye as I drove across the bridge. Who could resist that little green tugboat off in the distance? Certainly not me.
The blogger that I’ve been enjoying can be found at beetleypete.com.