When Writers Write

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” So what are you doing tonight?” the writer’s friend asked- sort of asked- because she asked by text message.

” Looking for monsters ” the writer wrote back.

Her friend  asked,  ” LOL. You mean writing right? “

” I’m a writer and when I write, I do choose my words carefully.”

” Uh. Okay. “

” But yes, dinner sounds great. Look. Do me a favor. Bring a shovel. And if you’re really a pal, you’ll bring two. “

” Ha! What are we doing? Burying bodies?”

” Doi. NO.We’re digging some up. C ya!”

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When I write

I wonder what happens to my stories

when I hit that enter key and they fly into cyberspace.

I’ve heard  that when you put something on the internet it will live there forever.

I write about the things that nightmares are made of.

Now there’s a thought.

I used to think that living in the suburbs was boring.

Anyway, that’s the way the story goes right?

I grew up a few miles from a guy who started a racist movement that has been tied to murders and someone stashed a body in the woods where me and my friends used to play everyday after school.

The suburbs.

Home scream home.

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