The truth was out there long before we recognized it. I’ve been familiar with it for years but when I come face to face with it, I remain awed. Indeed, the mind is a powerful thing.

All I need to be free from daydreams—for the sake of my life—is to stare reality in the face deliberately, but I sure can use illusions. They are good for my stories… necessary really.

Writing two novels, I find myself floating in daydreams… and listening to Taylor Swift for most of the day. It’s not good for the private life of the author but it sure helps write the stories. This is specially relevant because while one novel is only very loosely based on my [true] story, the other is a fictionalized version of my life, so really a memoir dressed up as a novel.

I can’t expand on what I said above without giving too much of me and despite my openness, there are certain things that cannot be expressed…

Let’s hope I come out on the other side intact, happily holding the drafts. I’m just not sure if I’m talking about the first or final drafts.

P.S.

I did some excavations and found that although I may have been a pantser in my teens, I was a plotter/planner in my early twenties. I’m a plantser now.

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