choices, choices. we’re eating at Damian Heath’s Lot 12 Public House tonight as the last event of Dean’s birthday week. We’ve purchased several creations by Heath’s parents, both of whom are local artists, so it seems right to try his food, especially since he’s becoming pretty famous.
We don’t take pictures of our meals (we get caught up in the excitement and forget), so here is a peek at the season’s entrees. I’m leaning towards the scallops or pasta. Dean will likely go for the shrimp & grits.
Today’s writing moved into a new and especially challenging section of the novel that involves going back in time to to when my victims were still alive. That’s definitely my weakness as a wannabe crime writer–I tend to objectify the victims in my drafting process, when I should really get closer to them.
I had not expected diversion, and it wreaks havoc with the structure I imagined, but the time is right to take the story–which has so far been controlled by amoral forces– to a different emotionality.
Wish Tank 