The wheat bag has been warmed and sits on my ilio-sacral joint. It's been a nagging ache for some of thed day. It's fine. The gym loosened it up a bit. My bang-bang machine (Tympanic massager) has been charged.
Rather than sit at the computer, something I have done for most of the day, I sat on the couch and plotted.
What am I going to do with the Ladies of Gilgamesh Lodge.
Why Gilgamesh? Well, it's a Sumerian myth that deals with travelling to the underworld, grief, death and rebirth. It fits with the ethos of modern Masonic lodges.
I've got a location for the Lodge - a back street in deepest, darkest East Melbourne. A friend of mine used to have a garage in this mews arrrangement - perfect spot for a small lodge and far enough away from the old Masonic Temple that used to be on Albert Street.
An one of my characters. Modern woman. Professional. Busy. Looking for some ways to further her spirituality. Has been a member of the Lodge for ten years. And is stuck on sandwiches for supper.
I'm not sure if anybody is aware of what it is to try and make CWA worthy supper contributions when you are busy. Making fingers sandwiches is an art form. And how do you drag a lot of people in a small club to think about things like allergy warnings. And what do people like to eat at these suppers. And how Hayley feels so completely inadequate when it's her turn to make supper.
And what does her husband think about her being a mason? Is he one himself? If he is one, has he ever been to one of her meetings?
And what else should be on the supper table.
And do I let her get ready to go to the meeting, going over the dress code, what can be worn, getting the accoutrements prepared. Like me, does she always lose her gloves.
A simple scene which can tell so much.
You have to give your characters something to do.
There has to be conflict.
You have to drive the story forward.
That's what I've been thinking about tonight.
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