Black holes are a bitch. I should know. There I was, content in my cozy little writer's world, agonizing over query letter rewrites, plotting with my editor, wondering if my credit card can handle the next con, and then...
ZOOP!
The Mundane Black Hole sucks me into its maw. My little writer's world shatters. I struggle to escape. But the Mundane--every dreamer's nightmare--is merciless. My soul will be crushed flat like an armadillo on a Texas two-lane highway. The Hole will not get me without a fight, though. I scheme, snatching sick days here and there to "go see my shrink," Dr. H.P. Compaq. But it's not enough. I feel myself drawn closer and closer to oblivion.
Just when it seems the Hole has won, that I've been lobotomized into one more Mundanian zombie drone...
BLOORP!
The Hole hocks me out like a loogie.
Dazed, I blink stupidly, watching as the shards of my writer's world piece themselves back together. Then it's complete, and the fog blanketing my brain lifts. I look around. Everything's as I left it, but I know nothing's the same. Slowly and painfully, I rise from my office chair and then stagger towards my Muse's corner. I collapse into Her seat, then reach down and turn on Dr. Compaq. After its grunting and groaning has faded into mere gurgles, I begin opening file after file, not surprised that my cozy little world has moved on in my absence. Clicking the mouse, I feel as if I were someone from a half a year ago suddenly propelled into today. I open yet another email and read the short message. It's another rejection note for The Alien Within.
I smile for the first time in months. It's good to be back.
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