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Recharging

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That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

Some batteries just need a quick charge and they’re good for a few hours. Some batteries you need to charge overnight and they still drain quickly.

With writers, the batteries need a variable charge at a constant rate, otherwise output suffers and performance is unpredictable.  This is science, I think.

For me, I’ve been reacting to a lot of different stimuli that has kept me distracted from some of my original goals, and that’s partly my fault.  A lot of these things are not really controllable though, are they?  Sick pets, financial stresses, the economy, politics – and all the rest.  I tend to bog down a little too easily at times.  I end up with too many to-do lists.

So now to recharge, I’m reading.  I have a stack of books that I’ve collected over the past two years or so, and an absolutely sick collection of eBooks I’ve downloaded – mostly novels and other works in the public domain.  They don’t do me much good if I don’t read them though, do they?

So I’m reading through the Nag Hamadi manuscripts, the Dungeons and Dragons 4th edition rules, and a biography.  Yeah, well not all at the same time. It’s hard enough to get my bifocals adjusted to a single page, much less that many pages.

And, with a little luck, my world will freeze over soon so that I can breathe easily for a few months – meaning that I will be back in audio book mode.  Otherwise I stop to make too many edits trying to keep the tar off the back of my throat.  I’m looking forward to it.

You know, I never had allergies until I moved to Indiana.  Hmmmmm…..

Killer Dreams?

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As adults, I think most people discount dreams. We don’t pay attention to them, don’t put any significance in them, and don’t bother remembering them.

I’ve always been glad that I have never had that tendency. I dream often, vividly, in color, and I remember my dreams.

Today it paid off. I dreamed up a whopper, that is still vivid enough for me to think about writing it up as a test thought or two. It starts off with some boxes found in the sand on the shore of a lake that contain odd things, and as an investigator I am tasked with figuring out if there was a crime or not. Yeah! I love puzzles, and I love them when they come in my dreams. The problem is, this was not a puzzle. This was a murder that happened nearly 30 years ago, and the evidence in these boxes is a very sad tale that implicates the father of a friend of mine. We had heard that he was dead, so it should be all over, right? Right?!?

Maybe. Will I write it? I don’t know. I’m a bit busy with other stuff at the moment, but I may very well come back to this one. I’ve never tried a murder mystery.

So take it as a cautionary tale, my scribbling friends. Don’t discount your dreams. Write them down. Mine them for ideas. Follow where they lead.

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