I just realized (by counting lol) that I have fourteen chapters or partial chapters already written–drafts anyway.
I said to myself if I get a chapter a day written while I’m here, that’s pretty good. I came with two chapters already so I’m right on task. Today though I’ll write more as it’s completely fogged in out there and I’m cozy inside with plenty of provisions.
I got up, well rested, and immediately thought of heading over to this quaint coffee shop I’ve been wanting to get back to ever since I got here but haven’t visited yet. It’s called Walnut Street Coffee.
I watched that fog roll in off the Sound and realized I’m just distracting myself. So what I decided to do instead, to ground me, was to make a fire in the fireplace which would not only be cozy on this cold grey day but it would keep me grounded. I’m still reeling from the film last night and raw with emotion. A good time to get busy and channel it to the page.
I just finished a very intense chapter about the morning Cindy’s body was discovered. I’m likely going to stick on that theme for awhile today and get in to some more reports. So here’s a snippet from this morning. Thanks for being out there and reading.
We’d all been huddled in the jacuzzi room. An addition my father had put on the back of the house, like a large green house filled with hanging plants, a fake fireplace and a large jacuzzi. The Christmas the year before, 1987, we’d spent most of our days in that room soaking, happy houring, opening our gifts. It was a fun festive happy room filled with twinkle lights and a party.
We sat stone faced in that room most of the day, waiting. We’d get up and pace, check the answering machine in case we’d missed something, and sit back down and wait. I would call my house to check my own machine remotely obsessively hoping for a message from her.
I remember just repeating over and over that I was certain she’d run off with Mark. That he was supposed to be in town. That she’d had that awkward, heated conversation the night before she went missing. That he was the only person she’d ever run out for like Michael said.
But it was way scarier than that. She didn’t have her purse. Or her keys. She’d never have run out to a stressful situation like that without her cigarettes.