The writing day began at 4:45 AM, as the Phantom Writer knocked on my head. "Come on," he said. "I know how the story ends."
Growing warm during the night, I'd shed my tee shirt and shorts. He waited impatiently as I dressed. I staggered after him as he rushed down the hall. I squinted out the windows at the darkness, shivering in the chilly house. "Couldn't this have waited until later?"
"Writing is best served while it's still hot and fresh," he chided.
I winced at that but took my required seat. I'd not shut down the computer the night before but it seemed like it didn't want to write right now, either. A Chrome window was open on a NY Times article, and it just didn't want to leave. At last, though, my current science fiction story, "The Ghosts of Ashland," was in front of me. I half dozed as The Writer took over and wrote the final pages.
"There," he said after End was appended. "Take a look at it later on, and then set it aside for a few days and then we'll polish it."
He sounded pleased. I told him that.
He nodded. "I am. It's always feels good to feel finish a story."
"But it's a lot longer than you wanted, isn't it? Didn't you say that you wanted a 5,000 word story? This is almost 10,000 words."
He shrugged. "I know. I'm not worried about it. We'll see what happens when I look at it in a few days. Now I can return to revising "Peerless" and submit it to an agent." He sounded determined. I cringed; it sounded like work.
Six AM had arrived. I fed the cats, checked my work schedule, and returned to bed for a half hour more of sleep.
Causes Michael Seidel Supports
Kiva, Women's International League for Peace and Freedom, Propublica.org, Doctors Without Borders, GreaterGood.com