The coffee is all gone, and because I need it to write. While everyone is settling in for bed, the demons come out spilling onto the page. Sometimes you can here them in the night. The thunder that booms or the wind that howls. Sometimes it’s just a bump in the night.
My husband gets up for work, and there I am, frustrated as hell with the last 6,000 words that were written because, quite frankly they suck. Then when he gets home I brood about the characters because each and everyone of them have a unique voice just like you and me. I stay up all night trying to bring these fairy tale creatures to life, and the demons they are wrestling with.
I sometimes wonder if I am really cut out for this. Questioning and doubting myself, going over the words on the page at least a dozen times to find I am not satisfied with what I have written. Then I am reminded of the message I have to share with humanity, the inner demons wrestled with at night, that need to come out, lest I become possessed. Such is the struggle of a writer, and Dammit! I need more coffee. If coffee isn’t available, tea will have to suffice.