It is raining in rivers this morning. In my neighbourhood, the usually sedate metalled roads are playing host to frothing streams, and that is just fine by me.
My daily writing exercises are making my work flow, too, and that isn’t bad. Most of them yesterday, and the day before, were about rain. This is because I’m writing a short story where it rains throughout, in the past, in the present, and even in the imaginary future.
So maybe I was calling to the rain, and when I sit down for my writing exercise today (rather like the daily back and leg stretches I do), I only need look out of the window to find the right words, and hopefully some of them will find their way to the finalised pages of my story.
They would also possibly wash away the memory of my dreams, which have now gone back to one I had described a long time ago, one full of blood, and blood spatter.
Somehow, I prefer fish swimming around in my head, than have it attacked by spatters of blood.
The idea is to keep adding a few words every day, and hopefully by the end of the year I would have something worth editing, and maybe a little bit worth publishing. Won’t know unless I try.
As to the fish and the spatter, if they have to tell me something, I’m listening. Can’t hear it yet though 🙂
Glad your work is coming along, Damyanti, and I’m sure the blood spatter, while more disturbing than the fish springing free of their confinement, will show you something sooner or later.
Or maybe they’re just dreams. 🙂