MADDOGS

Post by Jude

I love a good book. And for me that usually means a murder takes place somewhere between the covers. The book doesn’t have to be a murder mystery per se, but the lifeless body of someone, someone else wanted dead, does add a bit of spice.

I can’t be the only one who lies (or is it lays) awake nights thinking of how to commit the perfect murder on paper OR thinking about devious ways to kill off some despicable character.

I even have dreams (not nightmares) about people chasing me with guns and if the bullet finds its mark, that would make me the murderee. And if I could only remember the complete dream in the morning, I’d have the perfect plot for a book.

Speaking of plots—they are much easier to come up with than write. A plot idea may pop into the brain in seconds, but it takes months—or longer—to write a complete book. I probably have three dozen plots laying (or is it lying) around, waiting to be written into books. They multiply under my bed like dust bunnies. They fill my closets like last year’s discards. They lurk in dark corners, waiting for a chance to spring out, grab me by the throat and squeeze the last labored breath out of my body.

Plots are such wonderful things, but writing is so hard. Granted, it is pure delight to read a good book, but writing one is the madness that drives me.

One day I hope to read a good book, and have it be mine.