birth of a novella

ON a cold day, she decided to change her life. She said I know I don’t have much to live. So I need to finally start planning for my retirement. This will make the next 5 years pass in peace.. and in case I don’t make it till then, at least I would have imagined it. She sat down and started to collect the thoughts she had put on hold. She removed one of the notebooks she had stitched with love and she wrote on a it a big title in large font:

My Novella

The first thought that came to her mind is the possession of the thought itself. Am I the creator of my thoughts? Are they all cothaught? Aren’t theorems sothaught? Maybe even dreams are a collaboration, a work in progress?

The train driver could be a coauthor of my thesis? He must have Contributed to my one and only big bomb thought? Isn’t music collective.. why collect awards individually put them on an individual wall in a private non communal residence? Or on a clinic wall, or in an office? Why the need to claim?

But in labs work us collectively fine

What about dreams?

It’s a continuous weave…  A great title for her café ??? interesting.

But awards are individual.. parents… but their parents? Where to stop? Circumstances?

Intuition?

Idiosyncresies?

A great name for her cafe

Collective/ Communal

Share pain and award and mental illness

Distribute

She decided to go trough her saved thoughts in a big attic she had named potentials for a rainy living.. lots of boxes… unfinished serenades.. babies of ideas… waiting to be finished. She saw RK’s novella, sitting ina corner.. waiting to see the light.. she held the key to its encryption. When I retire I will finish them all. The boxes were many. She said I am sure if I picked one item from each collection, I will be able to get a set, according to the axiom of choice. I will work on that…

Also just as some coffee shops only serve breakfasts, or starters.. my novel might include a lot of intros to novels..

I decided that my novel will have a menu option:

Starters, Soups, Entrees, and desserts.

One can click.. make your own novel as you go along..

I select this starter and then annex an ending… etc

Each person will make their own story,

I have so much material..

I want to have every chapter carry a scent.. a thread.. I want all the threads in the conclusion to make the nicest quilt of living.. when the thread of today gives way to the thread of tomorrow, it emanates from its predecessor’s fabric and still writes it sown story,, unaware of its past.. like an automatic, Organic emancipation..

Like the unawareness of a pen of what was written with it in the previous chapter…

I have collected all the material and all the skills,, All I have to do is breathe my current makeup into the parts and watch the sparks blowing them colors and shades of existence..

I even prepared the different paper material at different thicknesses and absorption rates to accommodate to all the needed huffs and puffs of ink…

In a way, I am done, yet I have not started.