- Euripides (484 BC - 406 BC).
...or, they make a writer.
And you know you're a writer when you wake up at two-thirty a.m. with the entire first chapter to a new novel in your head and you find yourself lying down on the floor of your office with a pad of graph paper, writing longhand by moonlight, and when someone tries to hand you a flashlight or ask what you're doing, all you can manage is an urgent "Shh! Shh!" as you write as fast as you can, practically with eyes closed, trying desperately to capture the fragments before they go skittering off into the landscape.
One of my favorite fictional characters is Leonard of Quirm, a Terry Pratchett invention who is a
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Parallels, anyone?
In answer to the next question: sixteen pages. Medium print, actually sort of legible. (I wore my glasses. I used to try to capture the dreamspace by not wearing my glasses. Legible is definitely better than 'authentic dreaming.') And no, I couldn't go back to sleep.
It's a good thing someone else around here has a day job. And, mind you, I'm not complaining, but why does this always happen when I'm working on something else?! Oh well... maybe it's my subconscious promising me that I won't be in Edit Hell forever... eventually I'll get out, and then there will be more stories to create and enjoy. Cheers! And keep writing, good people. May your sleep be filled with dreams.
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