Writing Myself Off

I did something last night that I do almost every night. Something I've never told a soul.

Some people sing. Some meditate. Now, I read and I also sometimes rock. Yep, side to side. But, I also write myself off to sleep. I don't dream up books or scratch journal entries. No love notes or blog posts, no paid articles or pitches.

I write fake letters.

Most frequently, I compose them to people I know or have known. And, they're only written in my head-- not actually written on paper.

I've written my first college suite mates, rehashing how snotty they were and telling them everything I should have spatted back then. I write extended family and tell them all the details of my fabulous life. I write letters to fake radio stations about how great my mom is and why she should win the fake Mother's Day contest they're having. I write my dad saying how proud I am, or my brother's boss giving him a piece of my mind. I write to exes, bragging about my beau to make them jealous.

For some reason, it calms me, and I can (usually) float right off.

This weekend, I am working on some new propositions and some current assignments. I have six pieces due before the middle of next month, so I assume that can't be bad. Hopefully this writing gig is off to a strong start, so I can actually get paid more and more for writing instead of using it just to cure my insomnia.