To sleep, perchance to plot

The other day, McIrish told me about a story he heard on the radio. Sleep helps creativity. “Maybe you should—” he began.

“No, yes, I’m all over that!” I said. “Out with you. Go. I have to take a nap.”

I once heard a writer say that all her plots came to her in dreams. Before she said this, I liked her quite a lot. After…not so much. Really. Is it fair that people dream up books when I sweat and bleed over mine?

But now, I too would unlock the secret with a nap. And so today, after five hours of line edits and a synopsis, my eyes were burning, my brain fuzzy. I lay down on my office floor, on the nice gray carpet. Covered myself with a blanket, called Willow over to snuggle.

And sure enough, I did start to doze. Dreamed that Tom Hardy was talking to me (so far, so good) about chewing tobacco (ick). The dream changed. I was being chased by a seal. Not a SEAL, mind you. The animal kind.

So. Let me see if I can work that into a book. I’ll get right on that.

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