Had I watched tv I would have been asleep perhaps. I did prepare most properly for bed some hours ago, and slid inside beside the one who somehow loves me. But even he could not dispel the thinking grinding machinations of the mind so worse than nightmares that are at least not real.
So on to editing, an early morning hour eater that may see me into dawn and sun to burn out thoughts with bright bold color. But now that too is done, at least to a degree that I can trust myself to know with using half a brain. Reading too is easy in the silence of the house at hours when all the clever ones are smart enough to sleep. Marquez speaks; I listen. I read again to seek, scribbling notes when something stirs inside me.
And lo, at last I write. I find new paths to story where once there was only one. I ask but what if instead…and follow out that trail. Double back. Go off again–another new direction. Past, present, future all can change with just a single word to use as signpost for a junction of decision, choice, regret or joyous resolution.
I am alert to machinations now (Encarta: plot or intrigue: the devising of secret, cunning, or complicated plans and schemes; a secret, cunning, or complicated plan or scheme designed to achieve a particular end). I am hypertexting.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology