My wife, daughter, daughter-in-law, and some assorted friends went to the movies tonight. Something-or-other part two. This left me to my own devices.
I had another vignette from Lorelei, and wanted to write it down. It's not my normal fare, because nothing abnormal happened. I just wanted it out of my system. I kind of hoped it would be my post for tonight. (I'm saving my speculative stuff for a book of short stories.)
I got hung up on a bird call, of all things. It would have been a cool spice to the story, and for the life of me, I could not find the name of this bird. He has a distinctive call that you regularly hear out in the pine forest. I searched for two hours. You writers know exactly what I mean.
This bird has a three note call. Two midrange whistles, followed by one a note lower. It's almost mournful sounding. We used to call them whiskyjacks, but that is a different bird. The song sounds like whis-kee-jack.
I stormed around, and Lisa called me to the writing cabin. I went out there, and intended to work on a half finished short story. I kept thinking about that damned bird. Finally, I opened up my novel. It's pretty exciting right now, and I didn't have any problem on it. I managed almost two thousand words before the girls came home.
That damned bird will haunt me for weeks now. Still, new words on the novel, even if there aren't a ton of them.
Have any of you ever struggled to research something you know exists? Did you spend hours wasting your time with no results? Do any of you know what that damned bird is? I spent hours listening to various kinds of sparrows and small owls online.