So a funny thing happened to me on the way through Google Plus.  I ran across this post, which talked about the “Write Fifteen Minutes A Day” exercise, pointing me here.  The idea being that the latter site will give a writing prompt daily, and you should write about it for fifteen minutes.

I can do that.  And I know I should, too.

So I turned to the first writing prompt, which led to the following story (fragment).

“If the angel deigns to come, it will be because you have convinced her, not by tears, but by your humble resolve to be always beginning; to be a beginner.”

Rainer Maria Rilke

*   *   *

“So.”

“So.”

“An angel.”

“Yup?”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t kneel.  I got over angels, and gods, and the rest of that stuff a long time ago.”

The angel shrugged. “Actually, it’s kind of nice.  I get a lot of people so busy scraping and bowing and averting their eyes, it’s kind of hard to hold a conversation.”

I nodded, as if I understood.

The angel looked at me.

“But that also means I don’t really believe you’re an angel.”

The angel shrugged.  The movement caused the massive, pearlescent wings to shudder. “Belief is overrated.”

I snorted. “Odd hearing you say that.”

The angel smiled.  “By which I mean, what people believe — no matter how firmly, or fervently, or zealously — doesn’t really affect reality.  Believing in angels doesn’t make them exist.  Disbelieving in them doesn’t make them go away.”

I was really trying to think of a conversational approach here that didn’t make me come off like a dick.  Citing the need for “extraordinary evidence for extraordinary claims” made me sound … well, like a dick.  That said, I wasn’t going to just roll over for this guy.

Or gal.

It was hard to tell.

“So are you a he or a she?”

“It’s — not really something that applies.”

“Bummer.”

“Yes, well, it also means we’re not led around by our gonads the way your order is.  Comes in handy.  Still, lacking the generative force is a source of envy for some of us.  We are but messengers and actors, not creators.”

I chewed the inside of my lip.  “So … you’re not, like, the Angel of Death or something.”

The angel smiled.  It was a serene smile of gentle amusement.  It should have been irritating, but it wasn’t.  “No.  I thought you didn’t believe in such things.”

“I don’t.  But … I also don’t believe in tall asexual winged humanoids that have a gentle glow about their heads, and appear in my living room.  Since I’m faced with one of the latter, maybe there’s one of the former.”

The angel nodded.

“Do you have a name?”

The angel nodded again.

“Do I get to know what it is?”

“Eventually.”

“Okay, is this going to be one of those Dungeons & Dragons ‘Oooh, the mysterious oracle knows all, but only tells you enigmatic crap you can’t use’ things?  Because if it is, you can fly up, or down, or whichever transdimensional way you rock.”

“You don’t believe there are things you can’t understand or truly know, then, either.”

“No, not really. Not in a way that means anything.  I ask you your name. You give it to me. Seems pretty simple.”

“It’s not.”

“Why?”

“You’ll understand later.”

“That is exactly the kind of bullshit answer that made me join the local atheists club in college.”

The angel sighed.  “Maybe a bit of groveling and averting isn’t so bad.”

“Find another pew to slide into then, bub. I don’t do ineffable.”  I got up and went into the kitchen.  That was, in part, because I was thirsty and wanted a beer.  In part because my hands were shaking and I didn’t want whoever it was to se that.

“Would it help if I told you I brought you tidings of great joy?” The angel had followed me in.  No, the angel was already in the kitchen.  I looked back.  The angel was not in the living room, so presumably there weren’t two of them.

“Do I look like a shepherd?”

“Not so different, to be honest.”

“Okay,” I said, pulling out an IPA from the fridge, “tide away.”

*   *   *

So here’s the funny thing: that wasn’t really the writing prompt.  I was so keen to hop onto things I took an introductory quote to the writing prompt and used that.

Which is of course, okay, from a “We’re just trying to get you to write regularly” perspective.  But it is kind of funny.

(The actual writing prompt was: “What things do you allow to get in the way of your writing? Be specific, detailed, and brutally honest.”  Oh, well.)

This blog has been pretty silent since the last NaNoWriMo.  Maybe this will change that.  Will I be able to keep up with it?  Tune in tomorrow.