I get the bulk of my inspiration at night. Have I told you that before? Sometimes it's quite convenient, as I like to stay up late. Other times I wish it would wait until morning, as I am just drifting off to sleep and I can't muster the desire to get out of bed to write things down. (Unfortunately this happened just last night and I thought, very distinctly, "I will remember in the morning. I will. How could I forget?" Well, past-Elizabeth, you forgot.)
Speaking of past- and future-Elizabeth's, I was thinking today about my future self. I think I'll just keep getting better. At least that's the hope. That's the plan. And to my future-self I would say something very cliche, like, "I knew you could do it."
Sometimes I wish a future-Elizabeth would come back in time and tell the present-Elizabeth something equally cliche, but infinitely more comforting. Something like, "It'll all work out. You don't have to worry about a thing." And yet, if I wish a future-Elizabeth would come to me in the present, and I know what she would say, a part of my present-self must know what she'd say is true now. I mean, the past-Elizabeth's know it's true. But, that's just it: All these Elizabeth's, they're one person I suppose, but all very separate too. Always changing, always being reborn -- and not just in the spiritual sense, which I am, but reborn in so many other ways as well.
I guess the point of all this is just to express this desire within me, at least the present-me, to know the future. It would be grand, wouldn't it? But, just like most of the thoughts I have, I have a counter-thought. And this time the counter-thought to knowing the future is, how utterly lacking in mystery life would be if the future was known in the present.
This, my friends, is what I was referring to as my late-night inspiration. It may seem nonsensical to you, but to me it is an unloading of my soul. Uploading, maybe, since this is the Internet. It has to be done, or else things just get too crowded and my hard drive gets bogged down.
(See what I did there? I distracted you from the melodramatic reference to "my soul" by comparing it all to technology, something so not-poetic it counters anything overly-prosaic I may have said.)
I'm sorry if you were expecting pictures to accompany this novel. Not today. Just words.
p.s. When you work at a place that always refers to tomorrow's date as "today," things can get confusing. See, "today's" newspaper is actually tomorrow's. We just design and print it today, thus the reason tomorrow is actually "today." Get it?) But I think I got the date right. It's November 3. Yep.