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About a slave girl on a plantation in Louisiana, outside New Orleans somewhere.My brothers and I, we all grew up in a small shotgun house on Flood Street in the Ninth Ward. Anyway, I fear I’ve got to figure out how these dreams are related to… Does it make you think about how you might be enslaved? (Laughs) I enjoy considerable freedoms compared to this slave girl, named Kehinde.Another symbol for my roots, of a childhood in hot southeastern Virginia summers, playing outside until your arms and legs are still and tired, along with the last light of day. I got up and did more work to the outline of Book III.

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Electric yellow and blue-white beacons flashed on and off, whirly swirling in the tree. So on Fridays my imagination runs liberated and giddy great to a girl’s backyard where an alien creature has landed and becomes her pet and bestie. Folden, cottons on to the depths and endurance of my creativity and allows me to write my “book” every day during journal time. I don’t tell anyone what it’s about, because I don’t want to spoil it for them!

At the base, at the top–covering foundation and space before sky. The setting – fourth grade classroom at Carrsville Elementary School. I’m high off knowing I can do anything, so I’m certain the book will be on the bookstore shelves in no time. I write and work and finally decide to take a break from the book; I’ll just do a short piece to flex the imagination muscle.

We talked about walking the labyrinth, of seeing the Peace Tower, and then we felt the energy of a vortex in the Friendship garden. We prepared for the Angel garden just as the colors were fading to black, and we each said a little prayer before walking through the entrance. I chose a mosaicked bench with a faery on it, just discernable in the faded light. I feel ready and willing to work all day and to make some big checks off my list. I’m going to add yet another pile on the floor to a better spot so that I can start vacuuming in here and make it feel more lived in. I wrote close to 1600 words yesterday, just planning. …I was dreaming that the right side of my neck really hurt…REALLY hurt, and now I can’t tell if it really does hurt or if the pain in the dream was so intense that I’m feeling it from that. I swear, I’m only going to do one thing to my website today, then shift gears and let this creativity run through the STORY. Day 7 woooo! I took a day off yesterday; it felt like a recuperative measure, and now I feel fresh and well rested and ready to get some words down on this fine Sunday. AC: Or I might travel and live overseas for four years? I went to bed prolly around 10…that’s a solid nine hours. But they were closed, so I went to the Brew n View. I read while I waited to order, then for my food, and there was a guy sitting with another guy (I’m pretty sure they were conducting a business meeting)… While his associate went to the bathroom, he came over and asked me about the book I was reading. Especially with Dan and Len and Rochelle’s story being so prominent. I like to include all peoples, all ages, all philosophies and cultures. Perhaps because I’m too pumped to get back to my story, to finish it? Just Zena and her ultra fluffiness.*** She’s exposing her belly. I wrote a lot yesterday, [REFERENCE TO SCENE OMITTED SO AS NOT TO BE A SPOILER! I had a welling of emotion sit right on my chest while I was writing it. Baby, I would have this draft nice and shiny polished in no time. But I journal, and pet, and photograph, and love on a lot of cats. It’s like that in the movies, with the man in the French cottage with his hot Portuguese housekeeper…

I thought I had a good enough idea of the STORY just to start writing, but I’m glad I took the time to plan and do a bit of research. Funny, I was so pumped about writing more than 5000 words, but I’m still another 5000 behind! Still, if I can have another day like I had yesterday, I will be quite fine. The sun is coming out and clearing the mist in the valley, and if it’s as warm as it was yesterday, you better believe I’ll be out on those porches soaking up some sun, maybe finishing some Sookie.* It’s a very good time write now.** I got a very good fortune cookie yesterday. I can feel it in my tight neck and the slight daze of my head. I sat in the booth next to the window, and when the very tall, big man came to take my order (Louis, is that his name? We chatted for a minute; his friend came back and he sat down. And I suppose it could’ve been the other way around. Trying to actually acknowledge and speak to them instead of it all being in my head. …Pretty cute because Phyffer dreams that Suki wants to kill Sookie. I also remember writing the word “intertwined” twice last night. And Marie’s story, even though she’s 18; it’s pretty heavy seeing as she’s a whore.* Ah, yes, this is one of those times when I’m really pumped about what I’m writing. Part of me just wants to start from the beginning again, fill in all holes, but I say, no! During a rainy day with two dogs and a purring cat nearby. I think the Universe is wheeling and dealing with me. And then the Chocolate Lounge before and after that. I was peering into the hallway of my building, and then noticed all the condos in the building beside the Chocolate Lounge. The Faery Queen solidified from the black trees in swaths of silver. Sometimes, you simply must admit to being a stereotype. (oh, that’s the one movie, one of my faves–and I have had plenty a romantic moment, when I’ve found a particularly nice place to write: housesitting and nestled against landscaped hillsides in North Asheville, with new dog and cat friends for company; in a café on the luminously lit Circular Quay in Sydney, Australia–the Opera House lights shifting primary-colored pearly out past my laptop; beside the spaciously-lit window framing the library fountain, splashing less than the wind-lapped surface of the harbour in Wellington, New Zealand; and where it all began–baby-blue walls and dark rich cocoa smells of chocolate love at the French Broad Chocolate Lounge in downtown Asheville, NC. Still, the majority of The Story has been created eyes-glued-to-a-screen, wheeling and dealing typed words, scouring the interwebs in research–a singular focus of getting what comes to me to you.

I breathed, and the tree blinked…another, and another. : The Story expanding, one point of light at a time, in the metaphorical idea of a tree, a network of life; starting as a dream and materializing like the lush of summer growth. My housemate also announced this morning it’s National Outdoors Day. I start drafting what is now I now understand that premonition was the incredible energy of Story Creates and now.

I finally went to sleep, after smiles relaxed into snoring, and my total adoration of being a Creator relaxed into more dreams. And so I was inspired to move my writing station to the backyard. I hope this inspires you to create, or at least take credit for the ooey gooey romantic goodness in your world. I had the same desires then to finish it quickly and publish, allowing the great wealth and attention of a bestseller come over me like a pro-surfer dream wave.

One thought was persistent in the above transition: those fireflies are also a symbol for the books’ readership. Thank you for being one of those points of light—your own magnificent and complex story. Instead, I move overseas and live there four years, working, traveling, and poetizing.

It’s starting slowly, growing over time, until the handful of readers grow beyond the tree…perhaps one day as cavernous and dimensional as the stars against the black Outback night. I leave a choice life in New Zealand, and at the end of 2014 I land in Asheville, NC to finish and finally publish my fiction.

Now that I’m settled in Asheville, I’ve had my avocado plant sprouting and expanding along with my writing. She explained that she had seen lightning bugs illuminating the big oak tree in our backyard, around a.m.

My housemates mentioned the need for another avocado plant to grow alongside, to encourage pollination and the fruit, so I plucked the other seed (wrapped in paper towel, placed in a ziplock bag, and ignored in a dark cabinet during the winter months…is that how a partner is to be found? Now, I saw my first American lightning bug last week, and that was a delight in and of itself!

I passed 10,000 words, which means that I’m still around 3000 behind for the quota for today, but hey, I’m patting myself on the back for catching up so quickly. It is very good practice for writing drafts quickly, and not worrying about the quality of the words. “Hey, I’m gonna be honest and say that I think you’re cute. **I think my reference to four drafts is from my first novel. I’ve disregarded my original advice and have gone back so many times to fill in holes that I’ve created more holes and filled them…holes, fill, holes, fill…(Woowee, is it becoming clear how amazing it will be to have finished and in your hands come October?? It is the joy of story, tapping into worlds, creating them, relating them to ours. (And if you really have read all this, then woo hoo! However, the past twelve hours have been a highlight of romance for The Story series and I.

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