Happy Colombus Day!

I guess there's controversy over Colombus Day. Me? I always just took it as a nice day off. Last time I was in Philly, walking around and killing time, I saw a statue of Colombus, something never seen on the west coast. Also, my ex made certain I saw his house when we were in Genoa, her home town.

Today I'm in a writing quandry, though I doubt that's the right word. I'm wondering about what my characters need to do for a living, and I'm stuck. I know, I know, it will come in time. The thing is, I pride myself on my originality, also a bit on my edginess. I'm fascinated by people who have jobs outside the mainstream of plumbers, machinists, office workers. Everyone I know in life has one of those jobs, so they don't interest me much as a source of fiction.

I forget the writer's name, the one who championed the common man. I dislike most every story that features a writer. That's just lame. If aliens ever study our culture from our films and writings, they will be convinced fully half the population is doctors, lawyers, architects and writers.

Actually, I like this part of the process, nearly as much as the writing itself. I'm coming to terms with who the characters are, but unsure how many I will end up with. This, also, isn't new. Last year I think it took fully half a page before a woman introduced herself to me and becoming an object of desire for my main character. It seems my characters rarely, if ever, fall in love with who I set up for them.

This year I may steal a character from an earlier work, but that feels really dirty. I can come up with a new girl, somebody worthy of Dina. So far I've discarded, maybe, having her be independently wealthy, working in a lab, and being a car salesman. Something will come, I just trust my gut on that one.