Normally, I wake up with words in my head. As if my inner author pulls out her typewriter late at night when I'm sleeping and pounds away.
Back when I wrote fiction, it was usually dialogue. Scenes between characters.
Now, more often it is some thought I'm trying to piece together. Or threads of things where I suspect some vague correlation.
The amazing thing is that once I write them, they stop haunting me. They leave my head in satisfying silence.
Then, I can start my day.
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In the movie "Diminished Capacity" Alan Alda played Matthew Broderick's possibly "dementia-inflicted" Uncle Rollie. He would tie fishing line to each key on an old typewriter, then set it by their pond, attach fish hooks to the other end, and leave the lines in the water. As the fish nibbled on the hooks, it would cause letters to be typed. Uncle Rollie sat on the dock for hours watching with great expectation at what the prophetic fish would say!
Maybe you're having the dreams of the prophetic fish typers! Or...maybe I should remember the title of the movie, and keep my typing to myself...
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