A Visit from the Sand Man
I had a visit from the Sand Man last night. An awful dream that still lingers with me. It’s amazing how dreams can carry such emotion with them, emotion that’s all too real. I dreamt our youngest had been abducted and there were the tears and panic and feeling of utter hopelessness and loss. Awful.
Speaking of the Sand Man, we had our third “Writing for Publication” class last night and . . . I put them to sleep. Yes, I did. The room was warm, the day had been long, the topic was boring (I admit it), and the drone of my voice was like that of a hypnotist’s (“You’re getting sleep, verrrrry sleepy”).
First, the eyes got glassy and took on that “faraway” look, then the lips parted and jaw went slack, then it happened, the eyelids grew heavier and heavier and eventually succumbed to gravity.
And did I try to stop it? Did I wake them and tell them to pay attention, this is important stuff? No way. Let ’em sleep. I wish I could have taken a seat and joined them. (Now granted, not all of them fell asleep. Some were real troopers and stuck it to the man . . . the Sand Man, that is).
Our topics for the evening were time management, word counts, copyrights, and rights. Not exactly edge-of-your-seat stuff. A bunch of boring legal mumbo jumbo. But necessary stuff. Stuff every writer needs to know to avoid looking like an amateur and a fool. And that’s what I told them. No writer wants to look like an amateur . . . even if he or she is an amateur. At least look like you know what you’re doing.
Like I said before, I’m learning as we go along here too. So my challenge now is to take the boring stuff and make it, um, not-so-boring. I was going to say make it exciting but how do you make copyright law exciting? I pity the poor copyright lawyers . . . but they probably get a lot of naps in during the day, which wouldn’t be too bad.