The Writing Moment
It’d been an eyeblink. He’d been writing like crazy. He swears that he felt like he just sat down and opened the docs, delving into the novel, picking up the pieces of where he is and where he was going.
Coffee remains in his cup, but it is cold. This is an icy day, and the cold coffee doesn’t entice him. His rear end resents the chair’s hard seat. He has no idea how much he wrote and revised. Three more chapters were added and edited, other sections put under the editing grinder and polished, ensuring these new pieces fit smoothly as possible for this draft.
Time to stand up, stretch, and breathe. Back to life.
Back to reality.
He smiled as The Neurons remembered that song and stuck in his music stream. Fortunately, coffee shop music flowed in and overpowered the Soul II Soul song.
He wondered, though, will it show up in tomorrow’s morning mental music stream?
The Writing Moment
Energizing and enervating
Exhilarating and debilitating
He wrote until his coffee cup was empty
and his veins had gone dry
The Writing Moment
Waiting to fall asleep, he wrote throughout the night, scribbling in his mind, traversing back and forth over story lines. Now, daylight is here. Time to recall all that he mentally wrote and add it to the manuscript, carving and recurving the previous pieces to make this fit. Daylight has bleached out the night’s confidence that he knew what to do and how to do it.
Even the new book title that arrived as he fell asleep doesn’t seem as perfect as it did then.
But he begins working on it because that’s how it must be.
A New Beginning Dream
Winds hissed and howled, moaned and whistled last night. Rain splattered against the night world. Our young cat, Papi, wanted out, back in quickly, back out – hey, let’s try the front – and back in, etc. The cat’s demand fractured my sleep. Some time was then spent on writing the end of the novel but sleep finally hit. With it came dreams.
My wife and I were younger looking but in our current life situation, otherwise known as retired people. We were at a new place. Many of the buildings were white and brand new. She and I walked about it like astonished tourists taking in world wonders. News came by spoons, this was a new city. Not huge but neither was it small, its focus was about solving world issues. The mix of ethnicities and sexes impressed me, convincing me that this was a united effort across many races and nations. Engineers, architects, artists, and military members were among the people we met and saw, along with farmers and ranchers, all identified to us by what we saw them doing or what was overheard mentioned. Then came congratulations to me because I was part of this, brought on to help organize it. Well, super, I was flattered as hell but doubtful that I belonged. Insistence that I did was pushed on me by multiple folks. Well, okay, I guess I belong.
Next, we were elsewhere, traveling before going to the new place. Part of that meant I was meeting with others. We met on a stage. They were going to exercise before the formal handoff meeting. Did we want to join?
I did, but my wife didn’t. She wandered off as our impromptu class stretched and warmed up, awaiting our instructor. My stretching astonished me. Balanced on one leg, I raised the other above my head with ease. Wow, was I impressed. I jumped up and down and found I needed to be careful or I would crack my skull on the ceiling. Somewhere within those actions, I decided to change and poof, was changed into form fitting light gray workout clothes with a white headband. The instructor arrived but too much time was passed. My wife arrived, informing me that we had to go on because we were meeting other people in another city.
Zip, we were in the new city at a semi-formal event. Senior military people were there in large numbers. The spouse and I experienced minor confusion about what was going on and why we were in attendance. Servers circulated with trays of drinks. We accepted wine and champagne. Sipping drinks, we milled, meeting others, getting introduced. One young colonel who was a bald black man mentioned the new city in conversation. I responded that we knew about it.
His eyes widened. “You know of it?” When I said yes, he questioned me in an easy manner, confirming that we spoke about the same place and that I really knew about it. I finished by telling him, “We’re going to live there. I’ve been asked to join the staff.”
A smile split his face. “Wow,” he said. “Congratulations.” He thrust his hand at me. I shook it, grinning. As I did, I looked left. A small white model of the new city was on display. My wife stood beside it. I thought, that’s pretty cool. That’s where we’re going, to a new city and a new beginning.
Michael Seidel, writer 