So last week I wasn’t able to snag enough Wifi to fuel my Friday post, and this week–I’m posting on my iPad, because I did what I thought was a good deed–cleaning my iMac keyboard–and ended up now unable to type anything on my keyboard. Bleh.

Jane Austen never had these kinds of problems.

So later today I will be venturing to the Apple store, where I will buy a new (and definitely clean) keyboard, which thankfully isn’t so costly as to be Held Over My Head in future days (as in . . . ‘yes, you could get the foie gras, only–well, we did have to buy that keyboard ’cause you messed it up’).

But meanwhile, I have been writing, and writing a story that is a bit unusual for me, in that the heroine is quiet, elegant, aware of her beauty and has a calm poise I wish I could emulate. And in another story, my heroine is shorter than me (about 5’2″), thin and waifish-looking, rather like Ellen Page (and I tried to find a pic to add in for visual interest, but I don’t know how to save photos to the iPad to insert into posts. Another big ol’ gah from me).

I am nothing like either of these women, and writing them is a bit of a stretch, since my heroines are usually self-deprecatingly witty. Like me!

The heroes I’ve always been able to step outside of myself to write for the obvious reason. But the women, and their nuances, are harder to get a handle on. I’ve never been elegantly beautiful, or short, or thin; of course, those are all external attributes, but they definitely shape how the inside ends up, too. Entering a room when you know you’re stunning is very different from entering wondering if anyone will notice you, or if you will be relegated to the other side of the punch bowl.

It is, however, kind of cool and freeing to step outside of yourself for a moment, even just to wonder what it’s like to spy a cookie and not immediately think of your mid-40s pooch.

Writing is kind of like acting, in that you have to get into someone else’s skin to understand them. I bet a lot of us writers are just introverted actors who decided to stay within themselves to create their art–I know when I was little, I wanted to be an actress, not an author (I played Dorothy in “The Wizard Of Oz” because I had dark hair and could sing “Over The Rainbow.”)

I realize I am meandering, and for that, I blame the different posting scenario, the stress about the damn keyboard, and the busyness of the week. But who am I kidding? I’m like this all the time. So anyway, if you could step inside someone else’s skin for one day, whose would it be? Is there a character whose internal motivation you can never understand?

And thanks for dealing with me this nutty day.