I learned how to use the gym equipment today at my local YMCA. Yes, I am somewhat behind the times -- one of the last to jump into the fitness frenzy and actually start 'working out' at the gym.
Uh, we'll see how long it lasts. I am not an athletic person but I am determined to age as ungracefully as possible. Meaning: I'm going out kicking and screaming, gray hair colored, weight under control and abs, glutes and what-have-yous as firm as I can get them before gravity takes over and it all starts to sag.
However, as I wandered around the fitness center today and tried out the machines, my imagination kicked into overdrive. Oh, great. Not again!
I have a love/hate relationship with this thought process. Yes, I can always use good material for new stories. No, I do NOT need a new story right now. But muses being fickel, difficult little sprites who rather enjoy making writers/painters/artists pull their hair out by the roots -- a new story is exactly what began to simmer in my brain.
Maybe not completely new. But I think I have a new twist to one I've already begun. A new dimension to both plot and characters. Yes, it just might work.
And if I keep working on my form, maybe the rest of the story will fall into place as easily. I guess this means I'm stuck working out for while. Oy.