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The Midnight Writer’s Mind

March 16, 2012

In one of my first blog posts, I wrote about how many of my story ideas came when I was half asleep. Here is an example from last night. It is by no means an example of my work–just a barely edited example of my brain’s pointless midnight ramblings.

The man in the yellow satin jumpsuit leaning against the “Watch for buses” sign stared at Cora from across the street. She knew she should be more concerned that he was staring at her–and now whistling at her–but she was more afraid of the gaudy jumpsuit.

A bus roared by, nearly knocking Cora off her feet. Coughing from the exhaust, she backed away from the edge of the street. The man, still hanging out across the street, grinned at her then gave a smirk and a shrug as if to say, “Well, what’d I tell you?”

Who was this guy? Some sort of yellow-jumpsuited angel of doom?

Cora turned her back to him and headed for the mailbox. This, as it turned out, was not the best move.

“It’s just junk mail!” the man called to her as he ran across the street. “Everybody got junk mail! The whole block got junk mail!”

She grabbed her keys out of her pocket and tried to hold them in the grip that was supposed to mean “Come near me and I’ll cut you” but really said “Come near me and I’ll flail my arms at you with a blunt object wedged between my fingers.” Though her brain told her feet to run, her hand reached for the mailbox. She grabbed the wad of sales ads and slammed the metal door shut.

The man stared at her, his bottom jaw jutted out like a confrontational child’s. He whispered, “Don’t look at ’em, Cora. Just throw it away.”

He knew her name. So he’d probably gone through her mail already. “What? Are you trying to save me from the life-altering decision of changing cable providers?” she asked as she backed toward the house.

He continued toward her. “No. You’re going to see an ad in there and you will call. And they will come to your house. And that is when it all began.”

“What? What began?” she asked, looking from his face to the jumpsuit, now seeing its small green polka dots.

“I can’t tell you much more. If you never want to see me again, throw away the ads. Otherwise I’ll come back, and I’ll bring others with me. And you will have to wear this.”


From → Writing

  1. I understand you very well. Many times I’ve found myself half asleep, trying to ignore my brains input.

    My brain cells are going into: “Hey! This is genius! Write it down, buddy!” mode so often lately, that I’ve put my notepad directly under my pillow just to teach my ears how to write while I sleep.

    • I think it’s one of the few times we allow ourselves go to that weird place in our minds and it fuels our creativity during the day. At least for me it does.

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