Last night's homework centered on the difference between Fantasy and Reality. Can't you just picture that worksheet, and what a welcome break it was from preparing for the Terra Nova tests?
It got me thinking, though, about how many times I've pictured something in my mind and, of course, the reality is far different. For example:
The trip to St. Thomas should have been spent on the beach, not in the hotel room with "stomach upsets."
Pregnancy should make you smarter and slimmer, not more vacant and with larger feet.
Chocolate should leach calories from the system, not grapefruit.
A trip to the night club should not end with the discovery of footprints on the back of my shirt the following morning.
Christmas morning should never begin at 4:30 in the A.M.
I suppose nowhere is this more obvious than in being an author. A writer starts with a fabulous idea. Hey! A book about brain-sucking taxi drivers! It'll be huge! You sashay off to the computer, secure in the knowledge that the words will simply roll off the fingertips.
But, wait! What do you know about taxis, anyway? Where do they start their days? How do they get paid? What kind of slang do they use? Why do they use those seat covers with large wooden beads?
After some research, back you go to the computer. Now you're ready. You have seen the future, and it is You!
You begin to type, but your characters start to quarrel with each other in ways you didn't foresee. You don't like your love interest anymore. You villain now seems kind of cute.
It should have been easy. But in reality, fantasy is pretty hard.
PS - How do footprints get on the back of one's shirt, anyhow?