Day Three: No Outline Yet

I guess I'm not out of story yet. Yesterday, I had no idea what needed to happen next, but then I didn't realize I hadn't finished writing what I started. I have a tendency to write... up to a certain point. It's weird, and probably not a good habit, but I prefer to only write one big happening a day. And I like to jump right into it when I start for the day. I don't know how that works... as I require a certain number of words be written a day. How is it that that 2k will stop before the big shootout, or the hole to the other side being ripped open? I don't know. Sometimes, I feel like a tourist in my own head.

Of course, I strongly hold to the Stephen King Theory, which is that stories are found things. They are all there, in the earth, and like a plodding archeologist, you have to chip away and dig it out, being careful not to destroy anything.

And where did the gypsies come from?! When I was in tenth grade, I lived way out in the boonies and had to take the bus to school. For a few months, we drove by this caravan type wagon parked on the side of the road. There was a family there, and I thought they were wearing costumes. Very early nineteenth century pioneer type clothes. It was all cow pasture out there and not a house in sight. I thought it was a strange place for a roadside attraction. Then one day, they were gone, and someone said "The gypsies have moved on." I was like... whu? And somehow, BLAM! Just driving down the street, they show up in my urban fantasy when it goes rural. Found things indeed... who knows what else is buried down there.