The Wisteria Writer's Tag
A little known fact about me - I am awful at getting back to tags. Jonathan @ Fishing For Ideas tagged me for this (thanks, Jon) all the way back in September. Yeah.
So here I finally am! And without further ado...
1. Which of your writing projects is your favorite, and why?
Probably my current one, I Forgot. It's the one I'm most okay with, at any rate. I like the characters, and I really like how the plot is somewhat coming together.
I bend down, hands on knees. My chest heaves as I catch my breath. When I'm finally able to walk again, I head towards my favorite picnic table, the one on the slab of concrete overlooking the duck pond. I check to see if it's still wet with a quick sweep of my hand. One end's a little damp, so I sit on the other, dropping my backpack onto the top. I'm in the process of digging out my essay when I hear someone shout.
I ignore it, searching for my pencil. I could have sworn I clipped it to -
"Sophie!" The voice grows louder. And closer. Panting accompanies it. I look up to see a man around my age running up to me. He looks out of breath, but his face holds a look of absolute delight.
"Sophie!" He reaches me and pulls me to my feet, grabbing me in a tight hug and spinning around, laughing joyfully. "Sophie, it's really you! You're here! You're alive!"
What on earth? What the? My mind refuses to form thoughts. The only tiny corner still working splutters indignantly.
The doorbell jingles as I step inside. I breath deep, inhaling the wonderful smells of fresh ground coffee beans and crisp apple tart. Sam is behind the counter, his tan apron already on. He grins at me as I walking, tossing my apron at me. "Welcome to O'Henry's" it declares.
"You are..." Sam raises his wrist and cranes his neck, furrowing his brow and carefully inspecting his watch. "Three minutes and forty-three, no, forty-five seconds late."
I roll my eyes at him, and the corners of my mouth twitch. I tie the strings of my apron firmly behind my back and grab a Danish from our stash.
"Good morning to you, too," I say through a mouthful of pastry. Sam grabs a rag and gives the tables a once over. I flip the sign on the door.
"And we're open for business."
Business is fast - it always is on Saturday. You've got the graduate students bent over their computers, the grandma trio that ways claims the plush chairs in the corner (I think they're making some sort of massive blanket), then the dads that come in for our specialty donuts, kids hanging off their arms.
Our shift passes quickly, and soon I'm counting down the minutes, glancing at the old-fashioned wall-clock ever few seconds. The half hour before we're free is twice as long as the entire shift doubled. I fall into my usual end-of-shift rhythm. Taken an order, check the clock, fill an ordr, check the clock, call the name, check the clock.
I turn around to call the name of my next order, then freeze. Patrick's sitting at the window table. Staring at me.
1. Why did you start writing?
2. What is your favorite book on writing?
3. Who's your favorite character to date?
4. What's your favorite way to write? (pen and paper, computer, typewriter, dictation, etc.)
5. Plot first or Character first? (shamelessly stealing this one from Jon)
6. Writing essentials? (coffee, a blanket, chocolate, etc.)
7. Favorite quote about writing?
8. What's your current work-in-progress about?
9. Music or silence?
10. What is the one thing you wish you'd known when you started writing?
Jane @ Maiden of the Misty Mountains
Writefury @ Writefury
Jesseca @ Whimsical Writings for His Glory
Kellyn @ Reveries
Savannah @ Scattered Scribblings
Anika @ This Journey Called Life
Mary @ Sunshine and Scribblings
Elly and Alexandra @ Paperclips and Thoughts
That was fun. It's been too long since I've done a tag.