Suddenly, she heard a loud bang, a thump and a scream that caused her to jump from the bed. The hair on the back of her neck stood straight up and her body became one big goosebump.
Writing is not a searching about in the daily experience for apt similes and pretty thoughts and images_ It is not a conscious recording of the day__ experiences __reshly and with the appearance of reality__ The writer of imagination would find himself released from observing things for the purpose of writing them down later. He would be there to enjoy, to taste, to engage the free world, not a world which he carries like a bag of food, always fearful lest he drop something or someone get more than he.
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Writing is not a searching about in the daily experience for apt similes and pretty thoughts and images_ It is not a conscious recording of the day__ experiences __reshly and with the appearance of reality__ The writer of imagination would find himself released from observing things for the purpose of writing them down later. He would be there to enjoy, to taste, to engage the free world, not a world which he carries like a bag of food, always fearful lest he drop something or someone get more than he.
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