So, last night my wife punched me in the shoulder at 3 a.m. and said "you ran right through that stop sign." Well, no, I didn't. HELLO! Sleeping.
But dreams are a funny thing, aren't they? A couple weeks ago, I had a dream about a tiger race of people/animals. There were three brothers, all pilots, preparing for war against an intruding force. They're all born of royalty, but one was a traitor. Fine. If I ever write a fantasy, I'm set. Thanks to spicy nachos and restless sleep.
When people ask where ideas for your books come from, dreams are a good deal. I need to start keeping a dream journal. Along with a stun gun if my wife gets violent again.
So, fellow writers, keep a dream journal handy. It's the best tool along with perseverance. And the afore-mentioned stun gun. You never know.
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