I have a new WIP – aka Work In Progress. It is not the book I carefully plotted and planned to write.
When I woke up, it was sitting in my family room, smoking a cigarette and tapping ashes on the carpet.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I’m your new book,” the Beast said.
“We don’t smoke in the house.”
He exhaled a thick cloud at me. I looked him up and down — the bad skin, the folds of flesh, the greasy hair. He burped or maybe farted, I wasn’t sure which.
“You’re hideous,” I said.
He grinned, revealing a mouthful of jagged yellow teeth. “You’re stalling. Get busy. I’ve got alot to say.”
I shook my head. Maybe he would settle for a short story. I sat down and began to take dictation.
To be continued…