Fir some reason, i cant stop thinking abkut the Firespinner today. Maybe its all the maguc talk from my novel. I can imagine us debating the idea of a demon who feeds on human souls AND poetry, or discussing a new thing i learned or he learned and sharing it back and forth. Maybe its the staying in bed all day, and realizing exactly how rudiculously big my bed is all by myself, or just being lonely.
Maybe its that I realized that knowing the story, its plot and setting, the characters, the pacibg, doesn’t always move the story any faster. It doesn’t mean you know what sort of story it is, how it will end, or that you can change whats already been set in motion.
Stories are weird.