I met Stephen King in a dream last night. Although he appeared somehwhat human he resembled his Simpsons character more so than his own real life self. He was more cartoon than man.
I’m unsure if I was any percentage cartoon.
I shook Stephen’s hand and told him that his book On Writing had a profound impression on my work ethic.
Reading that book is like having your very own personal Stephen King writing trainer.
It keeps my pen-brain on a treadmill as he pushes me to reach that extra paragraph-mile.
He thanked me with his yellowy-flesh lizard lipped Simpsons smile before I faded into a sorority house party dream that took place in the South during the Civil War.
I believe we were in Georgia and I was playing beer pong with Union soldiers and we all had cell phones.
In real life retrospect I wish I asked one of the soldiers if they instagrammed Sherman’s March to the Sea. I would have used the Mayfair filter on a Sherman necktie.
I forgot about these dreams until I sat down to write just now. And then I thought up this quote that’s become increasingly true for me…
“When I start to write I want to drink and when I start to drink I want to write.”