I've written before about my weird dreams.
Namely, my nightmares.
Stress dreams, or nightmares about zombies and the like.
Well, in the last year, I've had a few of the most amazing dreams ever. Dreams that have fueled my desire to write books - dreams with major characters (one time the king was Leonardo DiCaprio, which I'm totally okay with) and plot twists, and unique story-lines that I'd like to say were my idea, but really my dream conscience is a lot more brilliant than I am. It can also be creepy, inappropriate, violent and disturbing.
Like many brilliant people, there are some dark sides to my dream-self.
With that in mind, I'm making a sweeping proclamation that I want to write a book this year.
I don't know if it's too late to make it a New Year's resolution, but I'm just going to make it a resolution.
I want a book with my name on it.
Printed on it, like on the front, not written on the inside because I already have lots of those.
Speaking of which, I have no idea what name I would put on my books.
Are pseudonyms still cool? Should I use my maiden name? A classy S. C. Schanaker? Sarah? Caitlin?
It's all pretty confusing but I suppose I should finish a rough draft or two first.
Dusty made a completely valid point: right now, with the job I have and the 0 children, I have the opportunity to make those kind of dreams a reality. Get my feet wet. Write some rough drafts. Send my writing to places. Be creative. Be bold. Be crazy.
So, he's right. This year I'm going to read more, write more, blog more, and Posie more.
And hopefully dream more, because my real self has no ideas.