10:49 a.m. - Friday, Feb. 16, 2007
Wait a minute. I wasn't actually working on that last night. The story I'm actually working on has no such scene. I dreamed it.
I dreamed I was planning out the scene. MMC would think there was a dead body ... smell of decay ... talks to super, no help there ... do I write out the conversation, or just summarize it? ... MMC searches through apartment ... finds forgotten box of Kentucky Fried Chicken under the couch... that's where the smell came from.
But how shall I describe the smell accurately? I must go out and buy a box of KFC. I must put it someplace where it can decay in peace so that ultimately my description of the smell of decaying KFC will be authentic. I'm leaving the office, walking to the train station to go home, and there's a KFC on the corner of Madison and Michigan. Shall I just pick up a box and take it with me on the train? And where on earth can I put it where neither dogs nor mice will get at it?
No, no, no. I'm not leaving the office — I'm not walking toward the train station — there's no KFC on the corner of Madison and Michigan. I'm in my own bathroom, it's 5:10 AM, I'm sleepily blow-drying my hair, and I'm remembering a dream I had about writing.
Tee-hee. I had a dream about writing. I'm going to go write about it at Diaryland.