Odd. Odd odd odd. Odd odd. ODD. (Oook!)

equuschick probably understands.

Isn't it odd that right now I miss somebody?

No, that's not odd. What's odd is that the somebody that I miss is somebody that I made up. Created from my own head, formed with my own thoughts, 50,000+ words written on paper with my own hand keyboard.

You'd think that since I have complete power over the man, I could call him up at will.

I miss Sonny.

Writing is a funny thing. You think the author gives the story life: I say the story lives and breathes itself. And sometimes the author just gets....

...swept away.


Exit Odd Mari, Enter Sane Mari: Who wishes you and yours a very happy Easter weekend and plans to enjoy hers very much, thank you, although very quietly and with a minimum of fuss and bother. She will spend her time off reading and playing in the newly green grass and trying to photograph butterflies, and possibly, if she dares, editing the book.