I don't know why, but every time I walk from Peckham to Vauxhall or back I think up scenes for Fantasy novels, and always of a sort that I would normally not think of... stories with ghosts and spirits, odd-shaped dragons, people immortal for some reason or another, great deeds and daft banter. When I'm walking along I often laugh because I just came up with a particularly pleasing scene. But as soon as I arrive in Vauxhall, or Peckham, it all fades and I wonder where it even came from. I have a notebook where I write down these particular fragments, and every so often I wonder if I want to try and write a fat paperback with dragons on the cover, just the sort I loved as a teenager. - Yesterday I thought of a couple of characters I particularly enjoyed throwing into a parallel world together, so I went into a cafe and wrote down my ideas, and today I shall copy them into a scrivener file, just in case. It feels like the kind of thing that can sit and wait around for a while, or have new scenes added whenever I come back from a walk. Or maybe one day I'll think of just the right fantasy universe for them.
That's my idea of a Sunday treat, writing something un-comissioned and over-ambitious while burning off librivox CDs. I noticed recently (when trying to write every day and finding it actually enjoyable) that casual writing is more fun than casual knitting, hopefully this will lead to wonky novels instead of wonky jumpers in the future. Yay.