Did Somebody Say I was Slow?

Well I was reminded today just how much I am like Homer Simpson in a particular episode where he was playing poker with the guys and they said he was slow, something he didn’t pick up on until the following morning when he was at the fridge.

I was asked by a patient to get them a jug of water with ice yesterday. Water was duly delivered but it wasn’t until this morning when I was by the fridge that I realised I didn’t actually put any ice in it and I felt terrible that I had forgotten something so simple (not that my patient actually minded at all when I apologised, in fact I think he was quite bemused that I had been worrying about it).

It appears my novel writing is on the slow train too, I have been trying to think of a name for my grumpy dwarf for weeks. Normally the names of my characters tell me their own names. It’s like they whisper it in my ear and without even thinking about it I’ve written it down.

However this one needed more time, I’d played about with a few different names in my head but none of them seemed to sound right and it had to be.

Characters to writers can be like children, nurtured in our minds before being set free by pen and ink into the world.

It has been so frustrating, I know so much about him, I know why he lives so secluded from the rest of the world, fashioning exquisite weapons from the bones of the victims of Twilight Song Woods. I know what he likes to eat, what he looks like, even what he smells like but for some reason that all important name eluded me… until today.

Now I feel a massive sense of relief. So step forward Fen Cleaver its nice to finally meet you.