Browsing All posts tagged under »dreams«

I Don’t Want to Tell You What I Dream About

June 12, 2013 by

2

You know how in Inception you can walk around in other people’s dreams? I love that idea to pieces. I want to get inside everybody’s heads. But I don’t want you in my mine. It’s not — well, yes, okay, it’s partly that I don’t want you to see what goes on in my head. […]

Why Must We Let Logic Rule Us, Anyway?

May 4, 2012 by

1

I just had this awesome dream, which would make a great story — except for the fact that it’s based on this kind of science that… isn’t. That and there were these major plot points that just don’t make sense to a waking mind. I woke up and got as far as, That was really… […]

I Woke Up Stumbling Off a Bus in the Middle of Who the Fuck Knows With Only My Fairly Dubious Sanity and Most of My Knives

May 1, 2012 by

0

 Me: I dreamed I cut my hair shorter with a steak knife Wuffie: Was it a good haircut? Me: Kind of raggedy Wuffie: Raggedy Candy. Me: Oh god… When you start your day with painkillers it’s not a particularly good sign. But then, I suppose technically my day didn’t start there anyway, it started the […]

Where Do You Get Your Ideas?

February 21, 2012 by

6

Someone asked me the other day, How do you come up with ideas for your stories? I resisted the urge to laugh, because weirdly that’s the question writers seem to get asked the most. I say ‘weirdly’ because my instinctive response was along the line of, How do you breathe? I really have a hard […]

Origin Story: Part the First

November 15, 2011 by

2

So I’ve had a few people ask me: Where did this book come from? And my brain automatically leaps to the most inappropriate answer: Well, when a writer and a laptop love each other very much… *cough* Anyway… the actual answer is rather long. Mostly because this story has multiple incarnations and each regeneration is […]

Dreams of Writing

August 20, 2011 by

2

For a long time, I never remembered any of my dreams. 'For a long time' is particular, as I do distinctly recall being a young child, recounting to my Grandmother how I dreamt of a piebald man, trying to bite chunks out of my flesh. Say, 7 or 8 years old.