Day-dreaming away

In the not-so-distant past, there were days when I would flop onto the couch and not feel like getting back up. I didn't want to go to the gym or cook dinner or even walk over to my desk to turn on the computer. I wanted to be as immobile as possible. This sloth-like state was the result of attending meetings that ran to the stroke of midnight.

Things have changed now. My workday neatly ends at 5 p.m. and even though I am into my third week at my new job, it still feels like a quick day. The days may feel short but the evenings seem to stretch endlessly. I have all this free time and not many ideas on how to fill it. Sure, I run miles on the treadmill and climb staircases on the stairmaster machines at the Y, but I feel like I've been given a golden opportunity to really do all the things I thought of or daydreamed about doing.

One of those things is write a book. I have always envisioned myself madly typing the great masterpiece of my generation on my computer. It would be a wild and untamed literary work and I felt sure I would be greatly admired for it.  The only problem was I had absolutely no idea what would fill up all those pages. Not having this key point sadly bars me from fulfilling my day-dream delusions.

Until, prehaps, now.

Last night my thoughts scrambled to think of things to do in the evenings and avenues to pursue to keep writing. I really wanted to produce a story idea - just to plant a small seed to get things started.

I knew memoirs were out -  my life is extremely comfortable; which is great for me but sadly boring for a reader. Sci-fi, fantasy and mysteries were also mentally scratched off. What I felt I had knowledge of was small town newspapers. I know what it is like to live on little pay, work long hours and deal with all the dramas and attitudes that appear in the newsroom.

I could write about that, I thought. Then, my story idea burst into my head. I felt wonderful - at last I had finally made a day-dream a reality. 

Having my head in the clouds