Each morning a zombie rises, moaning and groaning it stumbles downstairs. The zombie staggers to the coffeepot. Water splashes, coffee grounds litter the kitchen like confetti on New Year’s Eve. It grumbles and waits, then fills a cup with wake-up juice. A sip of the black witch’s brew and the transformation begins. My eyelids separate, and the world comes into focus. I see my goals on the horizon.
I consider my options. I could swim, build a boat, rent a wave runner, find a ferry, or buy a ticket on a private jet. The exact method is whichever one moves me forward, advancing me closer to my goal. I know I must act because I am not content to stand on the shore and dream.
How will you cross the sea?
Keep on writing.
Jo Hawk The Writer