I sat down to rescue my hero from one of the many perils that have beset him, and this is what showed up on the page:
I used to do it when I was young,
Though I don’t do it any more.
I did it in my room all alone
At night after I locked my door.
I could have done it in the day,
But I didn’t want anyone to see
That what I was doing
Was touching something deep inside of me.
The passion is gone with the years,
So now I can let the secret out.
I used to write poetry.
What did you think I was talking about?
I don’t know where that came from, or why, but there it is. Maybe all this writing is stirring up my brain. I just hope what shows up tonight is the next scene in my WIP. My poor hero is getting tired of waiting around for me to rescue him.
Bertram's Blog 