When I read I am not very critical, never was. I am the proverbial sponge. I take in. I soak. I immerse. If I can’t do that in a story, if I can put a story down without a fight, then for me, it’s not that good a story. If I have to fight myself to put down a story at midnight, make a bargain about what I will get done so I can get back to the story, then I know some part of that story will show up in my dreams. I dream all the time. I can not remember a time I did not, have not dreamed. Even when I wake up from being given an anesthetic, I feel like I dream.
It is very loud in my head. Always. I feel a little Walter Mitty. Always. So where am I going with this? Continue reading