It'll be called Abroyel, after the demonic doo-thingy who was out to spill my blood. He very nearly succeeded—in fact, if I hadn't woke up when I did, I might not be here now to write about it.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
What Dreams May Come and All That
Not blogging so much lately, with all my energy going into a new tale, which I very much fear may end up novella length. Tough sell, a novella, but this one's dictating that it go where it will. Had a long, vivid, violent dream the other night—one of those very rare ones with an honest-to-god storyline, some gratuitous sex and violence, and very little of the funky nonsense that usually creeps into dreams and renders them unwritable, at least without major overhauling. None of that here. I woke up at four AM the other morning and started scribbling everything I could remember. Took me a good thirty to forty minutes, and I'm not sure I've gotten my beauty sleep back since then.
It'll be called Abroyel, after the demonic doo-thingy who was out to spill my blood. He very nearly succeeded—in fact, if I hadn't woke up when I did, I might not be here now to write about it.
It'll be called Abroyel, after the demonic doo-thingy who was out to spill my blood. He very nearly succeeded—in fact, if I hadn't woke up when I did, I might not be here now to write about it.
