The Writing Moment
Breathe in, breathe out.
Sip coffee. Sit. Stare.
Contemplate.
Finished the second pass of the novel in progress, Unfocused. Six zillion words.
Naw. Just felt like it. Only 101K. 485 pages in MS Word.
The usual wars go on in me: finished. Feels good. Is it any good?
What shall I do now?
By that last, I mean, do another editing/revision pass or work on submitting it somewhere.
Other concepts call. A Tribe Called Death is eager to be written. Multitudes.
So, I sit. Sip coffee. Stare.
Contemplate.
Wait for a sign from the coffee shop.
Four Microdreams
I had a series of flash microdreams last night.
In the first, I was editing/revising my manuscript, Unfocused. I awoke confused whether I’d been awake or asleep. Falling back asleep, I experienced the novel as a movie.
Another microdream slipped in. I reached for a green glass tumbler which had water in it. When I tasted it, it was coffee, but it stayed clear.
A man asked me to marry him. Then I thought it was me asking him. Then I thought, I’m both men.
Then I ate a chocolate chip muffin from a tray. Finishing it, I wanted more.
End
