DUN! DUN! DUN!
MY WRITING SPOT!
Okay so grab your notebook and pen and come along with me. (No laptop—no, no, no, sorry. We're in my territory now!) Hike up yonder grassy hill . . .
Ah, look back to see how far you've come. Don't you just feel so alive? So insanely creative?
Plop down your chair in crazy high grass. All hidden now? Good. We're in stealth writer mode. Dum-de-dum-de-dum. What to write, what to write.
Priscilla threw the sword in the air with such precision, it pierced the gargoyle in the eye and dangled the climbing rope all the way down to her
slippered toes . . . . .
Phwew! Done with my writing goal. Pack em up and roll down the hill. I mean, walk gracefully, without falling down. I'll roll another day. In shorter grass. With no possibility of snakes or other creepy-alive-stuff.
Hey. Hold on. That huge impression in the grass looks really creepy. Ominous-like. Do you see it? Look close. You must see it! What on earth made such a gigantuan indent in the hill? Or MAYbe it wasn't from our planet! I'm outta here.
Whoa, those cows are staring at me. I mean seriously, they won't look away. Are they planning an attack? Practicing advanced mind control they learned from the Martians? Chanting a spell under their stinky bovine breaths? Um—speed walking to the car now. Don't look em in the eye. Don't let em know you're afraid.
Running, running, running. In the car. Start it up. Back it up. Down the road. I made it! HaHaHa! Foiled you, you brainless cows. Hmm . . . wonder if I'll find evil, take-over-the-world cows in my manuscript when I read over it tomorrow.
SO HEY, TELL ME ABOUT YOUR WRITING SPOT!