Sitting at the table, pen in my hand. Trying to get a good starting point. Thoughts racing, which way to make this story go. So many ideas. Still prefer pen and paper, makes the focus better.
Got the idea, don’t think of spelling. Words flow like water. Pages fall to the floor, don’t care. Ideas running, a twist here, left hook there, then a breather.
Look at my clock: 3 hours have gone by. Stretch, cigarette time, food and beverage too. Pick up the sheets of paper. A lot of them.
Paper calling, mind is lost again. Pen in hand. Lost in never never land. Phone rings, go to voicemail. Let me write before I go nuts.
Story done. 5 hours total. Almost 15 pages. Can edit when transferring to the computer. So tired. Forgot to eat dinner again.
Wish I had a person who could type for me. No money to pay for it. Another story to the collection. Wish I could get paid for it.
Must try to sleep. Brain in overtime, husband tells me ‘bedtime’ and he takes the pen from my hand. All I dream of is the story, waiting, calling, begging for more.
Get up early. Room is cleaned up. Paper in stacks. My mind is blank, why can’t I write?