Writing in Snow

Lambs on the March

I suspect this entry isn't going to make much sense, but that's alright. The title of this entry concerns a story idea about waging peace rather then war. The only thing I have is the title and the concept, nothing else comes to me. I look at the title and think that would be a good story, then I sit down to write about it. I stare at the screen and nothing comes.

I don't think the problem is writer's block, at least it doesn't feel like writer's block. It feels like an idea I'm attempting to write about before the complete concept is clear in my mind. I do have a vision in my mind about the title. I see a flock of lambs marching across the country toward Washington D.C. After I watch the lambs march for a while the picture changes and the lambs are transformed into human beings.

The lambs are now women marching across the country toward Washington. These aren't young women, they are women over fifty. They all want to make a statement about sending their sons, daughters, grandsons, and granddaughters to war. Anyway, that's about the only thing I have on this. I know it doesn't make a lot of sense, perhaps I would do better making Lambs on the March a poem rather then a story.

All sorts of other things keep coming to mind while I'm typing this. In addition, I keep getting interrupted, which apparently isn't good if the story concept isn't clear in my mind. Usually interruptions are good, but normally I don't start writing on a story concept until I have a firm idea of what I want. However, this is March 1 and I wanted to start the entries in this journal on the first of March.

The idea for the title came from a weather report that arrived in one of my e-mail accounts today. The subject line of the weather report was "March comes in like a lamb". Then in one of my blogs I used the title "The Lamb of March" and talked about today's weather in Las Vegas. It was after that the title "Lambs on the March" came into my mind. Actually, came into my mind isn't exactly what happened it sort of popped into my mind like a balloon when you stick a pin in it. Maybe that's the problem the noise of the busting balloon scared the rest of the idea out of my mind.

I wish I had more on this idea, but nothing else comes to mind. All I see is a bunch of fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty, and ninety year old women marching toward Washington D.C. They are walking rather then riding and when anyone offers them a ride they say "Thank you, but we would rather walk." Oddly enough all these women are dressed in mini skirts, perhaps I've been living in Las Vegas too long. I know this entry doesn't make a much sense, but that's all I have for now.

word count: 506