Disclaimer: I don't own Bones.
Inspiration
He walks towards my office.
Purposefully. Filled with purpose.
He owns the place.
Not literally, of course. I was using the literary technique of metaphor.
Angela informs me that metaphor is a way people make light of situations that are hard to describe with their given vocabulary.
I find it is illogical to say what something isn't, but if I'm going to continue to write my novels I have to keep up with social expectancies.
He is getting closer.
I am currently having a "writer's block."
This is a term for when a writer can not think of what to write next. I find it to be another illogical term. Nothing is actually "blocking" the writer.
He's almost at the door, but is stopped by Cam.
He's going to walk in and head for the direction directly behind me. He will try to see what I'm writing.
He will make a joke about a scene in my book.
He will then make a statement about how Andy is based off of him.
I do admit that lately I have been giving the character many of Booth's traits, but in the beginning he wasn't based on anyone.
I guess that if anything, Booth is based on Andy.
He opens the door.
It moves in a wide, sweeping, arc.
He smiles.
I smile back.
For some reason it doesn't work.
I still can't think.
This is an extremely odd occurrence. Usually his presence is enough.
"Whatcha writin' there Bones?"
Still, nothing.
I look at him.
"What?"
I continue to stare at him.
I meet his eyes.
His eyes meet mine.
A shiver just went down my spine. My head gives a small jerk to the left. It is a small, spastic movement of little consequence.
But it works.
Electrocution.
I have been inspired.