What I'm working on: a speculative fiction story for the Futuristic Motherhood Book. Thanks to Shawn for bringing this contest to my attention. It is actually right up my alley, except for the whole "pressure of a deadline" thing. Which I don't do well. Which is why I don't freelance. Anyway, I think it's coming together, but time is not my friend on this one. If you write speculative fiction at all, you should check it out.
What my subconscious is apparently working on behind my back: poetry
Last night I got up in the middle of the night and wrote this one down:
Sex and Evolution
Dawn flicked out his tongue
And licked night away.
Stars crackled and died--
Once again in his glory--
Leaving nothing alive but today.
His light melted galaxies
And rose to be our god,
Nothing exists beyond light or love
Except perhaps another day.
I really have no idea what I was thinking...or my mind was thinking without me. Ahhh, the mystery of where words come from...and why they wake us up like a freakin' four alarm fire drill at three in the morning.
198,000 words. Am I dead from the get-go?
11 hours ago