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The Plantation driveway.

Soooo, I’ve been busy writing in (on?) places other than this blog, lately. Which is good! And not.

After an out of body inspiring experience last week, followed by a night of dreaming that basically spelled out what I should write a book about, I began to write it. The book.

The next day I feverishly cranked out just over two-thousand words, with a little voice in the back of my mind saying, “Hey this is good! It’s your voice, but different. It’s fiction and yet reality, it’s using some big words in between the small ones, it sets a tone, has vision, soul, intelligence. If you crank out two-thousand words every day for the next year you will have a book! You will be published and they will make a movie (Oscar winning) of your book! You can buy an old plantation house with a row of old oaks over the driveway or a small castle in Scotland and then write more books!

Anyway, I re-read my life-changing two-thousand + words this morning and you know what my inner voice said? It said, “Oh God this is some contrived bullshit that is all over the place and basically is one big cliche of crap.”

Nice, right? But it was sort of true.

So, I’m figuring I will stop re-reading and just continue with the story (because there actually IS a story as opposed to the snippets and fragments of thoughts that usually end up on my pages) through to the end and THEN go back and re-read, edit, massacre, and vilify.

Wish me luck and let’s hope the inner voice shuts the hell up for a while. In the meantime, here is a snippet of an unedited, first draft paragraph from the two-thousand words.

Hell, on the other hand, is always depicted as being down below writhing, dark and menacing, full of empty bowls and dirty ragged clothing, chaos and the murky clutter of poverty coupled with a daily lack of granted wishes. Any religious painting would show these two worlds in their proper places, above and below. But not here, not in her world. Above and below had switched places. Although, as she contemplated this dichotomy, the sheets on the line behind her were bleachy clean and flapping not unlike heavenly robes. So there was that.
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