Hairy Scary July 12, 2007
Posted by Jen in : Novel , 14 commentsOh dear. I have lost the plot. Or, to be more precise, I have come to the conclusion that I didn’t have a plot to start with and am now doing unspeakable things with colour-coded record cards and a massive pin board in order to construct a plot.
I don’t lurch often onto the road of sensible thinking.
My novel has had a life of its own so far. I’ve taken an ‘organic instinctive’ approach to the whole thing, i.e. making it up as I go along. But. I came down early to write this morning. And below, dear reader, is the total crap that crept from my (character’s) mind…
Of course, there are lots of good reasons not to be entangled with a bloke. Leg hair, for starters. Mine had got so long at one point that I’d contemplated plaiting it. There’s something really sigh-inducing about doing your legs, knowing that nobody cares what’s going on underneath your trousers. Armpit hair, however, is another matter entirely. At the beginning of the man-drought, I had let my armpit hair grow long for the first time since I was about 14. Soft armpits instead of scrapy ones were quite nice until I woke up one morning with a start, leaping out of bed with a screech. For some reason, as I’d opened my eyes, my brain had insisted that there was a massive spider on my pillow. Right near my mouth, which rested on my arm as it curled around my head. Yes, I know. It wasn’t a whopping spider, obviously. But waking up terrified by your own armpit hair isn’t good and back to prickly I went. 
WTF?
