The night falls silent as all others around me have fallen upon their pillow and spiral toward slumber. Even the cat stretched lazily across the back of the couch looks at me through half slit eyes as if to say why aren’t you asleep. I ask myself that question, one I’ve asked on so many nights when sleep proves a most elusive goal and I’ve come to think that it is in the silence that only night can bring that I find my voice.
So I sit again at the keyboard and let the words flow and carve images deep into this reality. Nouns and adjectives my tools for creating a world that has existed nowhere other than in my imagination and peopling it with characters whose lives did not have breathe until my words gave them life.
Now I stop to ponder where the story takes me next and while I let the characters debate I fill the silence with these words so as not to interrupt theirs. There is much to discuss after all, my book is not yet born and unable able to exist and grow on its own but to force its growth may damage its development so I let the characters ruminate amongst themselves at the back of my mind while I ruminate on the process of bringing them to life.
Beautifully written…hope you eventually caught up on some sleep?
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Yes, I’ve come to understand that I’m a night person so I just have to work my life around that and not try to force my body clock to go against itself – that’s a battle you don’t win without outside help (sleeping medication).
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This is such a great description of the waiting process between writing. This was beautifully written also. It immediately drew me in.
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Thank you – I find that sometimes if I’m getting myself all tangled in my book that just setting it aside and writing something else lets the story line smooth itself out.
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I can only say ditto to the other’s comments. And here’s a thought, where would great literature be without its night owls? Sleep tight!
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Wonderful. Of course I relate, J. Every post of mine is a birth.
Keep it up!
HW
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