Something I wrote to a friend where I am rambling about writing:

I wrote something today and I have no idea where it is going to go. It might not go anywhere. That thing for Fisher didn't really go anywhere but still magically seemed to work on some level. The only thing that bothers me is I do seem like all I write about these days is dead people. Oh sure they are pretty much all still existing on some level but really, why is it all so one note? It's so frustrating because I am still forgetting things that I want to do.

Ages ago I was going to start this children's book series with my friend and it would be called the Renn Fair Five but it never happened. Then I was thinking about how much I love Edward Eager and I was thinking I would like to write some accessible magical books.

By that I guess I think of JK Rowling as not accessible. Her characters are almost in this caste system. You do have some who were not born into this system but they are frowned upon.

But Edward Eager's magic can happen to anyone and that is the beauty of it. You pick up a nickel and the next thing you know you are in a desert being kidnapped by a sorry looking fellow with some moth-eaten camels. So I had the idea for the opening of something and then I forgot it totally.