A Story about Insomnia 🌸
As I'm lying in bed, (walking the fine line between consciousness and unconsciousness,) my Muse snuggles up close, whispering, "Hey; we got a Level 10 Idea."
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Uhh. We're still working on a Level 2 Idea...?—are you duck-duck-goose serious?
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"She's agreed to a once-per-month contract until we reach Level 9."
You want to make a long-term... minimal... commitment to an epic-level idea...?
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"Uh-huh."
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While we're depressed, anxious, and—
"Aim for 'em stars, baby."
I roll over—forever the reluctant heroine—and try to fall asleep. But my Muse doesn't mind leering between the walls, waiting, (sneaky little creative snark she is,) until I'm vulnerable again, between consciousness and unconsciousness again, so she can whisper rudely:
"HEY."
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It's 12:27am, I protest.
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"Just a half hour a month."
Visit Kourtnie.net to read more of the half-million words I'm writing by the end of the year.