Monday, 30 November 2009

Slats of rain

I leaned against the chill of the window frame looking out. Slats of rain played straight eights with a persistent hand. My fingers missed the typing.

At the piano I played what I could remember of a Brahms Intermezzo, wanting a distraction, but that scene of Rory running through the valley played and replayed through the music. The dream-like action jolted to a sudden close just as my words did every time in my text, leaving the story hidden from me there again.

I left my notebook open on the table, just in case. My pen was waiting.

As the rain fell quieter, I walked through grey streets as if I'd left something precious behind. November 30th. My first day without you, except you were with me all the time.

***

In the rainiest November I can remember, I discovered that I could sit in front of the computer screen for long enough to type 50,000 words for Nanowrimo, with more left to say on top of that.

Yesterday, I came to a pause at 64245, having heard my piano calling me by rattling her keys - which, I have to say, ARE so very much more beautiful than any computer keyboard could ever be! And today was my first "day off" from it since I had a free day mid way through November.

Before I brace myself and start editing, I'm attempting to leave this project to one side for a few weeks. But I have a funny feeling that the new threads I want to look at in my notebooks this week might edge towards that other story that I'm trying to leave alone for a bit, and that the piano might have something else to tell me.