-Quote from the play I was in (Mortimer, Arsenic and Old Lace)
Once again, I.... Yep! You guessed it. Have an idea for another story. *sigh* I don't want more ideas... they're rather tiring. But I just keep getting them. And I CAN'T just abandon the idea after I get it. You see, I love my little ideas. Especially when they're so young and cuddly and inviting and just bursting with possibilities! The beginning of the story is always the most fun (except maybe the last sentence).
But I wish I didn't get so many ideas; I love each and every one, but they come so often and there are so many of them! And most of them are just ideas for a setting, a character, or a storyline. They don't come fully-formed; I have to work at them.
Each one is a piece of a story, begging me to put some time and words to it. Time and words, that's what makes a story.
This story is about a girl who lives in a hospital/orphanage run by nuns in the dark ages. The people who live there are either nuns or people who are hurt. Her "sister" is mute; I think she might be lame.
Perhaps this could tie into my journal-style story about a deaf girl (or was she blind?) in the middle ages...
Grrr. I have so much to do and so little time to encourage all these little story buds...