I don't want white washed walls
or plastered smiles
or taking tips
or broken dishes crashing my falls
I want to be sleep deprived
my editor calling me time and time again
asking where the next chapter is
or warning me about deadlines
I want the messy hair, tired faced
inspiration driven, energy taken author
who writes till inspiration leaves her
and eats, sleeps and breathes her writing
I want to wear my pajama's and work in my house
and maybe spill syrup on the too clean keyboard
from eating my waffles while typing my book
I want to cry, scream, and get over emotional about my writing
I want days where I will start to doubt my self
and give myself crap about my writing just to boost myself up again
and heighten my mind and senses to be better then they were
I want endless letters, emails and gifts from readers
telling me how I inspire their minds and their hearts
How I make them miserable when a character does something
they wish they hadn't done
I want to not see the world for maybe weeks on end
because I will be sitting at my desk typing away
papers cluttering my desk,
cookies crumbs,
coffee and cocoa mugs scattered here and their
I dream of living in a Victorian designed house
that may look like a castle
that has a beautiful library filled with books
and my house would inspire me to write
as would who ever was by my side
this is the life I want for me
no grocery bagging, secretary answering,
garbage dealing, bank checking, life
If I have to be the starved writer and artist I will be
as long as my heart and I know
I'm doing what I love and am passionate
about the words I produce
No mundane life for me