Unicorns

The first story I ever had 'published'--I use the term so loosely it's about to fall off, what I mean is, I once got a story put into an elementary school yearly publication--was called Unicorn Valley. I was 8 when I wrote it, and it was surprisingly good, and I've often thought about revisiting the creatures, either to extend the original tale, or to write a sequel (really, I suspect I want to write fairytale fantasy stories, even though I'm well aware the market is flooded and I've got virtually no chance of cracking it for another 30 years or more).

At the minute, I'm playing a game on Facebook... I mean, it's not really a game, you know, not like a *gamer* would play... and it involves the potential breeding of unicorns. (Every single time I admit I play such a game on FB, I die a little inside. I've actually used that phrase more than once.) My personal shame aside, the thing about 'breeding' 'unicorns' is, it reminds you why you liked mythological creatures in the first place:

They're magical. They're mystical. They're made-up. And because they are, you can make up any facts you like about them, and no one can contradict you.

I need to get back to writing; and I need to write in a universe/with characters, that I have free rein to alter and amend as I choose. In spite of wanting to write other things--like science fiction, like things that involve some basic understanding of physics--I really need to concentrate on stuff that I either know, or can imagine, without restraint.

Focus, woman. Focus, and get something done. Daywalker or not, you *might* not live forever.