Coffee and Conversation

I've been entertaining a variety of voices in my head.

I blame the media I've surrounded myself with. Between The Dark Knight, Red Eye, Disco Pigs, and Emilie Autumn's music, my mind is drenched with inspiration. (Then there's the caffeine. I've imbibed more coffee in the last few weeks than I have in--probably--six months.)

And my Muses are running with it.

I keep getting little tidbits. Snippets of scenes from longer pieces--novellas or novels. I feel like a voyeur, peeking into their lives. But it's gratifying. I get to see familiar characters unguarded and new ones honestly exposed.

The only downside is that now I have even more unfinished projects. But, I should be used to that.

I'm still learning how to shackle myself.

Pants to the seat.

And its resulted in a quick edit of a short story which is prepped for rewriting/working. "Tide Drawn" is on its way.

And I'm trying to decide what to work on next. So many ideas... So many people and places I want to explore. Do I go with a story already scribbled out in my hand or with one of the many notepad files I have holding lines of dialogue or snippets of scenes.

I've got a few that I'd really like to explore.


~*~

I always needed a drink after a job. It was a little life affirmation. The same reason people long to fuck after a funeral.


~*~

"It's just a dream," he said, and licked the sides her mouth. Delicately. A cat lapping cream.

"No. It's something more than that..."



Back to the asylum, then.