The Wrong Question

I awoke this morning after about twenty minutes of sleep. It wasn’t a deep sleep by any means. I doubt I had even completely lost consciousness.

As with most times I go to bed thoughts race through my head. Moments from the past surface, thoughts of the future fall back, words spoken or withheld descend upon an internal dialogue that continues to this day.

But this time was different and I don’t know why. I bolted awake and made for my computer, which lives in its own little room, brought up Word and started typing. Five minutes later and I had a page. Nothing new there as I’ve been known to do so in the past. What as different this time was that I didn’t have an idea for writing but a compulsion. Something had to get out of my brain and it wasn’t going to wait for rest to be born. It became my Athena, born fully armed from my forehead, no headache needed.

I’ve done little editing to the original flow that came out. I’d venture a guess at eight words and two sentences being removed or revised. Otherwise the document below constitutes the original form.

There is, however, one thing that scares me about this. I don’t write romance at all. I don’t read romance and I don’t watch romance films. True, there are moments between characters that pertain to relationships in my writings but nothing on this level. THAT scares me because, to toot my own horn, this is good. This is a good scene that tells a story without anything else being needed. No explanation; you are brought in and taken out and know the whole of it all.

One more thing… this is copyrighted. No portion of it may be used without permission, et al.  Continue reading The Wrong Question