So as it turns out, the only music I can write to is perfectly awful pop music. Isn’t that weird? Or else I can’t listen to any music at all. I put on a Top 40 playlist last night and wrote like a psychopath. It’s like . . . I guess if I know the music won’t stop until I finish writing, it rockets a story toward completion.
I won’t tell you what I’m listening to right now because if I have to utter it verbally or otherwise, I really will have to go ahead and kill myself.
The story is a new GRITT CALHOON tale. After I publish it I’m probably going to be put on an FBI watch-list. Yup!