I think I am running on some sort of adrenaline high (or low?). The lovely and talented Mr. Jason Wilson published another piece of my writing on his website, Unfiltered Smoke and it made me happy. I giggled. Out loud. It is a strange feeling, really, to be given some room on stage along side the likes of other more serious artists and such (is serious the right word?). It's a strange feeling-true, but I like it.
I did not work on my book today. Yesterday I wrote a lot and my mind is just stretched thin, sheer, uncovered. It's almost nekkid, as Mr. Robins would write.
Reliving some events to determine whether or not they are good fodder for literary purposes is a hard thing. My left brain says "Chickie, don't go there!" And my right brain says "will you relax already?" And the person sitting across from me says "have you taken your pills yet today?"
Somehow it seems that in order to tap into some fiction, it is necessary to cull the non. But, then again, maybe that is just a bunch of horse shit I am feeding myself at this unattractive hour.