It's funny the way minds work. I spend every available moment I can escaping into a world of fiction, by reading it, by writing it, by making movies in my head. This is a fiction I could not write, I suspect. Fiction for me is an escape from this all too real world, and I've lived - like Walter Mitty - inside the fictions in my head since young childhood. For as long as I can remember, I've spun stories in my head to send myself to sleep. But none of the fiction I weave is set in the plain old ordinary work-a-day world. I could write this plot and set it in a historical time. I can send Sam and Jack out to King Soopers and have them shop and do mundane tasks. I can write about ordinary moments in daily life, but there has to be an out, and element of fantasy or sci-fi, or historical fiction, something, anything to get it away from the real world.
Also, I'm afraid I'd be telling Abby to run, RUN! in the opposite direction, simply because in my experience guys who can settle for bimbo-of-the-week aren't looking for the challenge of dealing with a smart woman with opinions, and don't deal too well with them when they run across them. If he was dating intelligent-looker-of-the-week, then I'd hold out more hope for him. Then maybe he just hasn't found the right one for him yet.
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Date: 10 Feb 2012 04:19 am (UTC)Also, I'm afraid I'd be telling Abby to run, RUN! in the opposite direction, simply because in my experience guys who can settle for bimbo-of-the-week aren't looking for the challenge of dealing with a smart woman with opinions, and don't deal too well with them when they run across them. If he was dating intelligent-looker-of-the-week, then I'd hold out more hope for him. Then maybe he just hasn't found the right one for him yet.