I have reached that stage where I find reasons to avoid writing this book. I had this brilliant idea to send my character to a funeral, where the contrasts between our culture and her world should give me plenty to explore. Unfortunately, I don’t want to explore those emotions myself.
Molly waited for the bus to drive away before she started walking down the street. She passed a block of shops, looking in their windows, seeing her own reflection in the dark glass. Some of the stores were familiar to her, places where she had been sent as a child to fetch a carton of milk, places where she had shopped with her mother for clothes. Some of the shops where less familiar, selling items which their family had no use for.
One store was new since she had last been on this street. She stopped to read the posted list of items for sale inside. It was a book store, but it also carried miscellaneous objects. Partly driven by curiosity, partly from a need to postpone the dreaded confrontation with her father and the other mourners, she decided to enter the store.
Although a detour into a mysterious shop would pad my word count, I’ve done it before and it never goes anywhere. Even my main character is helping me avoid working on her story.