Don’t know what it is about 2 in the morning. The world becomes quiet and my mind is alive with thoughts, stories and dreams.
It reminds me of a Picasso painting.
As writers go, I’m not the kind that paints a vivid picture in words. I can’t wring the pain, love and sorrow out of you or make you feel as if you’re standing in the arctic with wind numbing your face through a mask as thick as a wall.
No. But I can drive an editor insane quicker than an apocalypse without internet service.
Yes, it’s 2 in the morning, and I have no idea where I’m going with this. It’s pouring out of my fingers, looking for an identity…
It’s a mental movie searching for answers.
What do mental movies have to do with answers?
Sometimes those mental movies become the glue that binds a story together.
Think of it this way: Your mind wanders in the shower, or as you drive (hopefully while you’re not taking a shower), and during those moments when you’re emerging from a dream. You’ve written your story, but one teensy part of it is missing plausibility. Your main bad guy flew off the edge of a 5000 foot cliff when one of his 30 wives pushed him over it. But you can’t kill the bastard off just yet. Your audience wants to see their hero talk him to death with platitudes as they fight, and run a sword through his heart when he’s finished.
Then, in your dream, you see the answer.
It’s so clear you wonder how you could’ve missed it!
Lately, my dreams have been about as useful as a steel maxi-pad. If I could stop having all those dreams about being lost, that might be helpful.