Cranberry Dreams

Happy Turkey Month you joyous readers! Wahoo!! Can you believe we are actually nearing the end of 2017? So much to be thankful for during this festive time. Like the mighty whirlwind that takes a full 365 days just too fully enjoy. Take me for instance, I get to spend all of my free time (and some of my un-free time as well), butt naked, sitting at my Macbook Air, or sometimes my old school typewriter, with Staind blasting out my house speakers, as I create a fascinating oddball tale with new characters, their deviant flaws and addictive traits. Sometimes not knowing which rabbit hole those flaws will lead me in to. Hot damn the thought of it just makes my aching loins quiver...
 
Aaahhh (heavy long sigh. No, much longer …).
 
But back to the safe territory of NC – 17. As you know, I’ve been reassessing my opus; my Perfect series, book three to a trilogy and I must say, I like what I have done with this series (today at least), I am amazed at no matter how many times you puddle through a page-one rewrite on a labor of love, that one unique idea never fails to pop into your cranium when you least expect it. That cool idea that makes you pause in awe a second, and giggle it was able to evade your creativity to begin with. It makes my job that much more fun each time Mr. Hyde decides to take the steering wheel from me. When I wake up in the morning naked and with someone else’s fresh blood on my face and hands, the consequences are often … liberating.     
 
Although sometimes ditzy, I am thankful that being ‘brain-dead’ has never been an issue for me (no offense to all the brain-dead comatose people out there trolling Instagram). I simply love to write: the good, the bad and the ugly. They all have the potential to be transformed into the best thing I’ve ever written and transform me right along with it. And that there is enough for all the Mark Twain and J.K Awesome’s in the universe could ever hope for.
 
I’m thankful we all made it. Some of us anyway. So pour out a little liquor on the concrete for your dead homies, then lift your shot glass to the sky for the future. 2018 is right on our door steps and it’s going to be one for the record books. And if it’s not… well… we always have Paris.
 
Until our next randevu, hug a writer.
 
Scarlet D.