“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”
― Maya Angelou
Around 2:00 AM this morning I was happily sleeping away when I was startled awake by my dream.
“Write me down,” it said.
“It’s two in the morning,” I whimpered in protest. “Can’t you tell me about this later?”
It stared at me pointedly.
I gave in because I knew there was no way I would remember it hours from now.
Somehow, I managed to punch it into my phone despite the glaring screen burning my eyeballs in the dark room.
As a writer you can expect to lose sleep as stories grip you and pull you into their world, so you can share them with others. If you choose to follow them that far. Many don’t.
Part of me is annoyed at the loss of sleep. Mostly, I’m annoyed that it’s a new story instead of a piece of the one I’m stuck on. I want to finish my current one before moving on!
Yes it looks shiny and fun like they all do in the beginning.
I have no idea when I’ll fit that one in. I have a deadline for a secret thing coming up that is my next high priority item. I’ll be briefly pausing work on The Blood Waitress Club while I work on this thing. No, I can’t tell you anything about it right now. It may be a long time before I’m allowed to talk about it.
I have a growing stack of other ideas too. It’s not a bad problem to have.
I’ve run into a number of people who want to write, but have no plans to do it until they’re retired. My life is packed and hectic at times because of it, but I figure I’ll be 20 or so years ahead of them.
If you’re a writer, you need to get the words out if only to get the stories to give you some peace.
Tonight’s plan is chores and the current novel. I need to finish the minor edits to figure out where I am in the story, so I can get back to drafting it.