I have managed to write more than I have done in years. I have lots of drafts of different books all over the place, hard-drives, memory sticks and even notes on my phone. I have scribbles written in books, on my iPad, pretty much anywhere I can find really.
After my blog last week, I started to write my first story. I’ve written less than 250 words but they are the best 250 words I have written (non-academically) in a long time.
This story is based on nothing more than a dream. I have some of the weirdest, most vivid dreams you could imagine and at times I am confused by what happened in the dreams and why on earth I was dreaming certain things.
Last night I had the most bizarre dream. I don’t recall much of it but it was based around a society where everyone was in an almost ‘regimental’ Hunger Games or Divergent sort of society. I think this was due to the fact I had just had my phone buzz about a million times to tell me that a terror attack had taken place on London Bridge, alongside many from friends asking me if I was okay.
It’s really cool to think about stories, where people have gotten them from and how they have actually taken the time to sit down and share them with the world. I’m current sat directly in front of my bookcase in the living room looking at hundreds of stories that have been cultivated by authors for the enjoyment of others. It’s incredible. There are so many talented writers in this world and so many people with such amazing stories that go untold because they are scared to fail or scared that their story isn’t worth bothering with.