I need to start working the night shift and pack in the day job. I climb into my jim jams and my mind springs into life just as my ass hits the bed springs.
I start with my Booker Prize winning novel. I rearrange the entire work and finish it with a fabulous flourish that eludes me in daylight. Next I plan and execute my original screenplay in my VAST head.
I’m wearing Ben de Lisi, no way is it wearing me, when I step up to collect my Golden Globe award for said screenplay. George Clooney presents the statuette to me and he gets very emotional. Softie. I cut my acceptance speech short just as I’m saying “I’d also like to thank everyone who reads my blog…” because a genius idea for a mini series swoops down on me and I must immediately attend to that. I’m a horizontal literary giant.
Naturally I don’t need to write any of my flashes of brilliance down because they are so unique and such sure fire winners that I couldn’t possibly forget them ever, let alone before morning.
I’m firing on all creative pistons then sleep ambushes me and when I wake up I can’t even remember the dog’s name in my underslept state. I ask whathisname, the dog, if he heard me talking in my sleep at all but he just smiles.
When it comes to Golden Globes, international writing awards and commissions for mini series, you snooze you lose.