Inspiration
Dear friends, you probably think I fell into a puddle of gravy on Thanskgiving and am only now just crawling out given my lack of posts. Not true! I have been consumed with editing. I'm truly putting the mental pedal to the metal here. And if it weren't for that thing I do every day that sucks up nine hours of my time (but provides health insurance and a salary) I'm quite sure I'd be done by now.
But no matter. The end is in sight. Eighty pages to go (give or take a few). And tonight I had a moment of inspiration. I sometimes think the general public labors under the false impression that we writers are just chock o'block full of inspiration. Not true. We're full of other things.
Anyway, as I walking home this cold evening I caught a whiff of body gel scent that punched me in the solar nexus and dragged me back in time eight or so years. Yes, I'm susceptible to scents. What amazes me is how my brain knows smells and actually makes me feel as I was when I smelled the scent originally. The best example I have is smelling something and actually feeling as if I was standing in the woods with my mother as a child (about four years old). I felt small, close to the ground. The smell was mud, but a very particular mud. I've smelled mud since and not had that reaction.
I decided that my character should smell dirt in an upcoming scene. It would help her remember something and, as a result, she'll reach a decision that was lacking in the text before. I think it's a good idea. It's almost inspired. And what's best is I know it's real, in feeling.
So there you have it. Inspiration. Now if only I could find a way to squeeze more hours out of the day...