I’ve always been a morning person. Starting from way back in my school days when I would wake up extra early to call all the BBS’ I was signed up with. Later in life it came in handy because it was the only alone time I could get. It seems odd that now, when I have no reason to be up early, I can’t sleep late. I suppose it’s years and years of training.
I did not get my unasked for horoscope today. Either they figured out that I never asked to get it or, worryingly, there is absolutely nothing for me in the stars for today. I wouldn’t think that’s possible, though. On further reflection, it’s more likely that the person who makes them up forgot to write one. Perhaps they worked late at the fortune company factory the night before?
I wonder if I could be a ghost writer. I’m not sure how you become one, but I hope it doesn’t involve ending my life prematurely in a horrible way so that I would become trapped between dimensions and then spending eternity hoping someone comes along wanting me to write their autobiography.
I don’t think it’s that involved. But, you see, I sort of have problems coming with ideas for stories. Many times I think I sabotage myself. For instance, this afternoon I started formulating an idea that I thought was interesting. So I put on my thinking cap and fell asleep. When I woke up the inspiration was gone. Mostly.
But I never had a problem in high school. Hell, I didn’t have too much of a problem making that “Writing” banner. It seems like if someone says to me, “Write this” then I can spin a yarn out of it. Left to my own devices, it doesn’t go as well.
I got a really great compliment in school, once. I don’t remember what grade it was or even which school. It was an English class and we all had to write out own story in the style of Chaucer’s “Canterbury Tales,” except without all the sexual innuendo. Then we split up into little groups and had to read out story to the others in the group and get criticism on it. I read mine, which was about a knight and a magic box of some kind. One of the girls in my group said, “Wow, that was like it was written by a real person!”
I couldn’t even tell you how many times I wrote a creative essay just before class started and still got an “A” on it. I’m just that good. Or was.