They're remaking a dress - a costume. They have scissors and beads and sequins and glue guns and yards, yards, yards of that tulle netting stuff. I am no sew-stress, but I can envision the transformation from cheesy, clunky puff-sleeved ballet costume to elegant, flowing, goddess-worthy gown.
I'm a little giddy with totally unusual creative juices.
I think I might be jealous of them (the characters, not the juices) and do you know what that means? Either that I'm totally losing my grip on reality (possible) or that these girls are becoming People to me. That's kind of amazing, you know?
I have written people that felt real to me before, but mainly because they reminded me of someone I knew (me) and I was constantly bugged by their (my) selfishness, or stupidity, or shallow reactions, or lack of confidence. But these new characters, they're not like anyone I know. They're coming "alive" (don't call the psych hospital, it's just an expression) of their own merits.
Not only that, but I LIKE them.
This is a momentous occasion. I think I'll go for a celebratory jog.