I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Keep your ears open

After a maddening day at the day job, in the middle of class a writing thunder bolt from the blue. One of my classmates works in hospice. She told the story of one old man who had a "I see dead people" t-shirt. He wore it everywhere, she said. Around the hospice, to dinner, and even to mass.

That t-shirt would oh so work in the next novel. And I know exactly where it is and how it fits in. This is why as a writer you need to get out and interact with other people gaining experiences.

Yes, I told her that story was soooo going to be in my next novel.

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