Crawling from Beneath the Sheets and Writing in the Kitchen When It’s Quiet
In the early morning quiet I empty my mind
Ideas race through my mind like shooting stars in the night sky.
The day had been so noisy, busy with rocks clanging, banging from the yard. Weeds pulled hour after hour, walks to see ideas for yards and kids visiting with little one screaming and yelling, playing on the trampoline, racing cars and picking up friends to bring by for the night.
Noise bounces from one wall to another with dogs barking, squealing each time someone new pulls up.
But now it’s night. Early morning. I’m awake and I have a choice. The urge to write is strong and compelling. But where do I begin? Because I also know this is a damned risk.
Capturing the two stories I’ve written and corralling them into a town that’s blossoming in my imagination — the western town I’ve envisioned for so long.
