“Did I? How exciting… I look forward to hearing it. I wonder if I already have?”

    A female, exuberantly excited if slightly panicked voice in my head

Every character I write, be they a main character, supporting case, or the woman in the shop waiting to get served… has their own voice. This has a lot to do with the way I write, or at least the way I build little frameworks of conversation that are not part of a complex narrative while ideating. Often in the car, or walking somewhere , or laying staring into the all consuming darkness of the bedroom ceiling wondering what the point of it all is. And what the ‘it’ in question is to start with.

I have been waiting for this voice to appear, I didn’t realise I was waiting for it, but I was. I was a little surprised when it popped in for a chat with my subconscious. I was even more surprised I recognised the voice, worryingly so given the context of the character on to whom I have imposed their voice…

(No, I am not even going to begin to explain why its worrying, I am almost certain the original owner is not to be worried about in the same context)

Voices in my head, argue and converse with other voices in my head, and occasionally I remember to write them down.

Its a process. Its my process. I never said it was a good one.

That line got written in the spaces between as I waited for servers to reboot in a data hall. Because that is where I was when the conversation started to form in my head. As each server took about five minutes to reboot and I was doing a bunch I had time to scribble down quite a bit, some of it makes sense… Well all of it makes sense to me, but that’s not the point. This may never make a final draft of the novel I am not working on but want to ( as opposed to the one I am not working on but should be, or the one I am working on but my mind keeps wondering…)

In any regard here is the full bit… because it needed writing by that point

Life happens, but just because you remember it in order doesn’t mean it
happened that way, why are some memories so clear, like they happened only
yesterday? And yet you can’t always remember what you did an hour ago, let
alone last weekend. Or for that matter where you put your keys.
“We have met before, Richard, but don’t you normally play piano, not serve bar?”
“Usually yes, but on Tuesday afternoons I fill in for Lyal as he has yoga. When
did we meet? I’m sure I’d have remembered. Though time here is a bit odd,
sometimes.
“See you even remember my name.”
“I do? “ he asked and she laughed.
“Sometimes… That’s me. Well, Scarlet, Scarlet Sometimes…”
“That’s an…”
“Odd name, yes, I know. Its not my real name obviously.”
“Hang about, Scarlet Sometimes, I am sure I know that name. didn’t you have a
one hit wonder in the 80’s?”
“Did I? How exciting… I look forward to hearing it. I wonder if I already have?
They were always playing oldies when I was growing up. Oh, that begs a question
doesn’t it , did I write it before I heard it or afterwards. Is it plagiarism
if you are plagiarising yourself?”