This morning I woke before my alarm and stumbled to the coffee pot to watch it brew. With my eyes barely half open, my muse took a shit in my brain.
Sometimes my muse gives me something really useful. A bit of dialogue, a character flaw, hell, sometimes full-formed novel plots. Othertimes, I get shit like this:
“There is nothing in the world I hate more than a stale Dorito. Perhaps because they are so correspondingly the opposite while fresh.”
That’s it, word for word. I couldn’t get it out of my head until I wrote it down. Now, hopefully, I can get on with my day. Funny thing, the muse. So fickle and flighty. Funnier given the fact that I can’t think of a more apt truism. Doritos ARE dreadful if you happen across a stale one.