Rebel words and the dangers of waking a writer

4am. I was snuggled warm and comfortable in my bed with the blankets cuddled just right and the pillow soft and cool beneath my head.  Yet, despite the perfect sleeping conditions I was awake.  My head was spinning with dialogue and escape plans even though my stuffy sinuses suggested that attempting to get it all on down would be futile.  If I sat up then it would all vanish like mist in the morning light, driven away by morning ablutions and the need for tissues.

It would be much easier to close my eyes and abandon myself to the peace of the darkened room.  Sadly, I have never done anything the easy way.  So I pulled myself from the embrace of my bed sheets, fumbled glasses onto my face and stumbled down the hall to my computer, tripping over the cat as I went.

It took a moment for my computer to awaken, so I fed the cat and recovered the tissue box from my room. Sitting down once again, I opened a blank page in my writing program, put my fingers to the keys, and….swore.   The words that had seemed to flow so easily into my mind in my dark bedroom, fled at the attempt to capture and pin them to my blank page.

Grimly determined and annoyingly awake, I set the coffee pot to perk and went to wash my face. It was then  that I made my vow.

Armed with caffeine and stubbornness I will hunt down every last one of them.  I will bind each word to the pristine whiteness of my open page until they huddle together as sentences for comfort.  The bodies of paragraphs will grow, and the word count increase, until they all have been subjugated to my creative will.

Then I will rest once more.  I will return to my slumber knowing that I my sleep shall be sweet once my need for vengeance has be satiated.  With the rebel words bound there is nothing left to disturb my slumber….until the next rebellion.

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