In my mind, I am there. Back up against a pile of pillows, hot water in a mug, journal on my crooked knees and I’m writing about Crazy Town. The fictional place I go to when I think about romance.
Crazy Town was discovered with my meeting Eros, the man who helped change the direction of my life. While in that relationship, I mapped out what Crazy Town looked like with the help of my sister. Balls deep in an idea that had me waxing poetic like a starry eyed teenager, with my mind so addled with lust I could barely see straight. He seemed to offer me everything I ever dreamed of. Ah, the good side of the tracks… where everything is in a bizarre state of possible.
I’m writing a survival guide, but I find I just keep discovering new suburbs, forests, barrens. I keep living more to the story, and I have to catch up and write it all down.
This looks like such a wonderful corner to do it in.
Reading nook.