The nightly ritual of writing ten pages that suddenly goes wonky and you’re aware that it’s 5 am and you were simply unable to stop writing until the chapter was done.

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To wake at the sound of the alarm clock, and discover that you really did only write 10 pages, yet you’ve dreamt an entire lifetime of places and people in the six or seven hours you’ve been asleep…

… and how wonderful that world was, and the people who lived in it.

That is, until you try to put it down on paper.

All those wonderful characters suddenly become so very complex… so very human when exposed to the light of the real world. They develop very human frailties, and
unlike your dream their personalities expand and change in ways you never envisioned until they become people you only vaguely recognise.

… a bit like going to a class reunion for the first time in 30 years.

The beautifully coloured cityscape and the quaint villages begin to show their frailties.

The baseboards that no longer quite evenly meet the floor, a sign of the foundation
beginning to settle or the result of earth tremors.

The paint where it is beginning to peel and chip, cracked and pitted varnish on the banisters that seem, from a distance to shine, and the dust motes that cover the clean shiny world with their greying dinginess.

The cracked, broken and missing cobbles in the roadway that cause a horse to throw a shoe or the unseen pothole that twist a ladies ankle at the most inopportune
moment.

The perfect trees show their broken and bug-infested limbs, and the perfect flower garden that is overcome by insects that eat the pedals and infest the buds.

… and like the author, the characters sometimes stop, look around and scratch their heads as if to say “what was I going to say?” or to wonder where they were going and why.

They sometimes look up at the writer from off the page as if they were searching for the guiding light… though often more likely to say;

“What kind of dialogue is that?”

… or …

“Do you really think tripe and drivel like that would ever be uttered from my lips?”

… but most often…

“Get a grip!”

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