At Least Insomnia Is Good For Something

Up far too late.

But as I was lying in bed next to the fiance, I told her about the story that popped into my head last night when I couldn’t sleep. The amazing thing is, it’s a children’s story. A really nasty one. Maybe it was writing about what I liked about Roald Dahl so much earlier that set it off, but large, large parts of the main plot have already crawled into my lap, nestled in and are looking up at me with large, large eyes, blinking and waiting for me to feed them so that they can grow up into a full story.

I got up, fired up the computer and wrote down all the ideas, I’m sure lots of things will change. But it’s a weird and vaguely frightening story, and I think if I pull it off, it would be the kind of story that, when I was a kid, I didn’t want to read, but once I started, I couldn’t stop.

And for once I have a title already, and it’s called Lost In Loveless. I don’t know when I’ll write this. Maybe not for a long time, but at least it’s there, in my lap, just waiting for food.