Process Interrupted
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room.
....Now what?
I tap my fingers to no particular rhythm, asking myself, why is she staring out a window? My brain pulsates trying to arrive at a new story line, something so different that no one will have thought of it before. Then again, so is every writer. I heard that there really are only seven basic plotlines, I guess its what we do with them to make our stories original. I purse my lips in concentration and go back to tapping out a beat on my keyboard, an idea, I need an idea!
