I’m at a little spot in DC, on the corner of Fifth and K Street called Busboys and Poets. Having secured a two person table by the door, I ordered a bowl of shrimp and grits, and thought of Shannon.
Shannon being one of the characters from Metaphysical Graffiti. I had her set a certain way in my mind when I first started outlining the book, but bit by bit she changed under me. I started scribbling notes, altering her background in pretty vital ways. I think I will need to scrap large chunks of the outline and start again.
I suppose this happens to everyone. Creative endeavors shift under you, like a sidewalk pushed up and broken by tree roots under the cement. I guess only time will show if the tree ripping up my sidewalk bears fruit, or rots away.
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