I’m trying to inspire myself, though maybe I’ll inspire you as well. Every day I’m trying to do one writing exercise, or process work related to writing in some way. Each week I’ll post the best one of the week. If I flub, and I only get one done, then… I post that each week. If I remember to write down why I wrote what I wrote, I’ll share this as well.
This exercise was inspired by one moment in the day. A phrase overheard, a snippet of conversation, an observation of people in public and their body language or gestures—and then let it become… anything. This one surprised me by the idea that the person might solve murders by intuition, and that it would be a tactile thing. Even after one short page in my journal, I can almost hear hir. Yes, so far I think ze is gender neutral. I’ll tell hir I need a plot as well as a name, and see what happens.
Germs, poison, or bad air:
I know I washed my hands, but they still feel dirty. Like a patch of something heavy on a few fingers, a bit of sweat or… goo… between my pinky finger and the next. This is how OCD starts I bet. I can feel the bacteria just waiting there.
It’s like a sixth sense.
Like my intuition. Someone doesn’t have to say they like me or don’t. They can be nice, smile, whatever, but their disregard is like a drain. You can just sense that bad feeling like a miasma drawing you down. And you can watch it when you watch people. The way they spread things that are not germs. Energy or air.
It’s like that…
I just washed my hands! Did I not wash them soon enough after the lav? And what would it have been like to be a germaphobe in the Medieval age? But they didn’t have “germs” then.
I’ve got to wash my hands again, but I don’t want to be OCD!
Miasma. That’s the Medieval concept: Bad air. What would they do then if they couldn’t bathe off the bad air? Get it off the skin. Letting bad air linger. How do you wash that off? What do you do when you can’t eat a bite of food when you hear something nasty on television? Details of a fake gruesome murder. And the digestion goes off if you try to eat during a fight at the dinner table. Naturally.
I’ll wash my hands again. Maybe I didn’t get all the germs off?
Oh no. It’s the hand with the one tiny bump… no… It’s three tiny bumps. Poison. That’s what they call it here. Poison. Around here it’s not poison ivy. Germs and poison. Miasma.
This is going to be a miserable day.
Everything I touch is going to spread poison.