The Mind in Running Shoes

I need to write.

I need to let the juices flow out all over a piece of crisp white paper.

Adjectives, adverbs, prepositional phrases and ellipses (I love me some “…”s *lol*) all need to crawl out of my head and find new homes in a story.

The body was thoroughly and grumpily exhausted last night.

The mind was up for a brisk jog around the block.

Put these two together and you get sleep sporadic in its best. (We won’t even talk about the dreams other than to say I had Popes popping up everywhere, including in an episode of “MacGyver.” It was rather disturbing. *shivers dramatically*)

Penning blogs, letters to literary agents and UK book reviews apparently doesn’t count toward the writing muscles screaming for attention.

It’s been days since I’ve sat down and spun out a good 500 words of utter imagination. I’m going to fix that today.

500 words of fiction are going to be dragged out of these fingers today even if I have to hire a tow truck to assist.

There’s going to be some tale weaving today, damn it!

I’m going to pump out some mighty powerful rounds of fiction. It’s going to be brutal… or however “brutal” romance with a touch of smut can get.

*pregnant pause as realization strikes*

Unfortunately, we all know now that I have just jinxed myself as to the creating thing today. A “suddenly” or a “sweet curve of his ass” might putter out, but the flow thing is almost assuredly out the door and hopping into the cab of the tow truck I won’t be needing after all.

*sighs*

Nevertheless, I vow to try.

Hand to my heart, I promise you, dear readers, I will give it my best shot… unless, of course, the tow truck driver is hot and then, well, I’ll let your imaginations take it from there. *winks*

Until tonight…

Chloe