Night, and Her Train of Plot Bunnies...

In a completely desperate move, I knocked myself out with sleeping pills last night. I hate them, so the scrip usually expires before I use them all. But in my drug-induced sleep, I had one of those really weird dreams that's part memory, and woke up remembering this novella I'd written on a retreat weekend back in my college days. My memory is vague on the process. I believe I tapped out most of it on an Alphasmart under a flowering chestnut tree in Scotland... but it would have been around 1992-1994, so that seems unlikely.

Crawling out of bed, I took a wild shot.

I'll be damned.

Crammed between some old term papers I refuse to throw away was a red folder with a label too worn to read. Opening it, I found the story I'd dreamed about. The title is ESCAPING HOME. I had no memory of it prior to the dream last night, and only a sketchy memory of it even as I opened the folder. Basically I knew it was a young adult novella about an abused girl who leaves home, lives on her own, but is forced from one place to the next through a series of tragedies. The only constant in her life is a desire to escape poverty and cruelty and to somehow attain an education.

But there it was... complete an nearly pristine inside a ratty red folder. Since I am trying very hard to get back on track with NaNoWriMo I have no time to give this story. Still... it has earned some love. So next year, when I get a small gap, I'll be paying some sucker to type it into a word file, and will give it a home via CreateSpace. Survivors should always stick together.

P.S. Art nerds got the title. :)