Sometimes I crawl out of bed and write. This morning it struck me around two a.m. that I finally had a way to begin the first paragraph of a work I am very interested in writing. So, I slipped out of bed, turned on the computer and went for it. An hour later I ended the session. Writing for me is a mixture of spontaneous combustion and slow burning embers. I never know. Something strikes me, someone says something and I’m off like a bullet leaving a riffle in a weird, pointing my pointer finger up in the air as if to say to whoever is with me, I have a thought, just a minute which I am sure they are void to understand. But lately it is not uncommon for me to set in front of a blank screen and look and look and look at it as if it were a bright headlight and I am the deer waiting for impact. So when I awoke and was hit with what seemed at the time to be a good beginning for what I wanted to say I welcomed the interruption of slumber.
I just hope I did not disturb the household.