This is the kind of morning that writers dream of. Words fly think and fast and you have to scramble between the Weetabix and the milk to find a piece of paper and pen before it’s all gone. Words swarm before your eyes, a giant sea of alphabets falling like last week’s snowflakes. Taunting, begging, then challenging to be caught and put down gently on paper.
It’s a morning full of article ideas and prompts. Fingers crossed that it’s a morning of acceptances from (still sleeping) editors on the other side of the pond.
Why can’t all mornings be like this?
PS: Why do writers have to have day jobs on mornings like this? Off to work!