The beauty of being a story teller is that I have an infinite number of universes and possibilities. If I can imagine it, it can happen, and I can imagine a lot!
I have six or eight books floating around in my head right now. They include technical, fiction, non-fiction, children's, and other genres. I can feel the stories growing inside me. Sometimes they feel subtle, just kind of swelling in there. Those feel sort of like the feeling of food digesting. You can hear little squirts if you listen close enough. Other times they grow rapidly and feel like an ankle swelling after being twisted. These shout at me. They have a voice all their own and they drown out other noises in my head. Sometimes I have to put headphones on and listen to music really loudly to drown them out. Falling asleep, while they are shouting, becomes difficult.
I wonder if psychologists would think I need treatment or priests think I need an exorcism. I've not had the first, but I have had the latter, and I still have the stories, so I don't *think* I am demon possessed. I don't drink Absinthe either, so I don't think the air will grow denser, perfumed from an unseen censer. I prefer my air perfumed from censers I can see. However, like Poe, I do like the sweeter ports and wines and have, on occasion, drank some Jamaican Rum. Fortunately, I have already outlived him in years, while I will probably never outlive him in content or in the hearts or memories of those that love his works.
These days, I don't have time for writing. It is a struggle to take time to write a blog or article posting. I *really* do need to get these stories out. They do hurt my head so.