James Thurber as first morning read in my email. Plus, plus, plus. Connections between things seen and things read. Voices. A flurry of animals in someone’s yard yesterday. A variety of hens and roosters with feathers so fluffy they look straight out of a spin through the dryer. A white dove in conversation with a work horse. Kittens pouncing on roots or exploring the way down from an unlikely perch. Familiar faces, newcomers. Food, drink, music.
On the way over to the evening, I ran into the Romanian doctor. The questions at his exam were much tougher than he had expected. A good thing we had worked on materials such as how a doctor must respond to a policeman’s request for access to his files; or who to contact if a patient has given his wife’s name in case of an emergency but an acrimonious divorce has ensued since. He requested a further meeting for this week.
The draft: I am but the service provider insofar as my fingers do the initial typing and my brain provides the revisions. Whenever possible, I read through, back and forth. Maybe there’s a hidden combination as with the slot machines. Three oranges, three lemons or three pineapples can’t show up too often or there would be no pay-off. In the same way, maybe there’s a hidden key in the characters’ order of appearance and why they choose to pipe up on any given topic. Maybe I’ll discover the key when they decide the story’s done? C’est possible mais ça n’est pas garanti.