Secret Trysts

It's a balmy spring morning, and my old dog is happily trotting in and out of the garden in the sunshine as I write, but despite the sunshine I am feeling a bit feeble. The doctor said 'walking pneumonia;' I feel a bit more 'Walking Dead.' Working from home, there are no 'sick days' (cue maudlin violin music) so I am still at my desk, but can I let you into a secret? I am glad to be here. Don't tell my husband - he may stop providing the tea-on-tap that my enfeeblement has provoked.

I have annoying things, like proofs to go through today, and queries to answer for two different projects (again, don't let on to the editors - they need to know these projects only give me unbridled joy) - but I am happy to be here for a different reason. I am cheating on those projects with another love - a new story idea! As with any new romance, I can't stop thinking about my beloved. I fall asleep with a notebook by the bed and disturb my long-suffering hubby by suddenly erupting from the covers to scribble furiously when an idea strikes. The hypnagogic state as I slide into sleep helps me to solve plot problems, and I long ago abandoned the cosy-snuggle-down thought that 'I'll remember that in the morning' - bitter experience has shown that I won't!

I daydream of the story chopping onions for dinner; I woolgather around scenarios as I drive. I ponder WWPD (what would protagonist do) as I go about my daily business. I slip away from my commissioned work down dark corridors of the internet to meet my beloved for secret 'research' trysts and immerse myself in the guilty pleasure.

The thing is, I should probably wait until I have finished the other projects before starting this story, but it is too insistent; it pursues me seductively, wherever I go. So I shall continue to meet my beloved in secret until the time comes when we can declare our relationship to the world. Until then, my secret is safe with you, isn't it?