The right idea stands at an arm’s length, waiting to be approved. The other right idea stays in the rear, waiting to arrive. And me stand in the edge of a sinking boat, where the client sits with wide opened mouth like a gaint whale. He wishes to suck me in with a grin. The ship slides in too, looks more eager than me.
Has there been a better hell!
An Ink drop just smudges the white sheet. What once happened to be a kiss, now turns into an unrelenting episode. How could it do that to my paper?
Naughty ink, it wants to make a story. But keyboard types client advts. Keyboards are more like themselves, more clear-headed then an ink. Ink can turn a letter to a creature. Sometimes deciding to take a stroll around the margin too, leaving behind a trail of doodles.
If there is a moment before the client’s burp, the Moon fades away, a fairy tale dies a silent death, and over the demise of a story writer, the idea is approved.
Time for another paid idea.