Kelly Haworth

Author of Queer Speculative Romance

Dreaming About Writing


I have heard many a person talk about how they are inspired by their dreams.  Stephen King and Stephanie Meyer just to name the most famous (dear god how different those authors are) but I know some author friends that are as well.

My first serious attempt at a novel was inspired by a dream – a futuristic human society with computer chips in their heads experiences an alien invasion that uses the chips to make all mankind human slaves.  Damn that summarizes nice… I’ll have to take a stab at it again someday.

However, in the 12 years since, I have dreamt extremely rarely about my novels.    I think I can count the times on one hand.  I almost feel cheated.   All of these characters I’ve never met, worlds I’ve never stepped foot on, ocean breezes I haven’t felt and neon flowers I haven’t smelt.  What gives, universe?  Why do other people get such detailed, lifelike dreams when I get random flashes of friends doing stupid crap or stuff involving TV show characters that makes no sense?  Why would my dreams be so lame when I am capable of such creativity in my writing?

One of my theories is that I have always been very grounded in my body.  Stuff like hypnotism and total drunkenness don’t result in my consciousness wavering.  (Seriously, I remember every moment of me puking my guts out that one time.)  So maybe my mind makes too much of a fuss over what’s real and expected for it to let me walk around on another planet.

Another theory is that I think about my writing so damn much while I’m awake my mind has no reason to think about it while I’m asleep.  🙂

Now, the reason I’m talking about this is because I actually dreamed about Y Negative last night.  Did I get to see the acid marshes?  No.  Did I get to meet Ember or Jess?  No.  I was walking outside a regular apartment complex and overheard a bunch of guys talking about some sort of shenanigans going on in one of the apartments.  After I woke up, I knew that’s where I was because there was no mistaking the clothing and the people’s faces.

I hate my mind sometimes.

I’ll just keep hoping that one day my dreams will inspire me again.  Until then… I’ll let my daydreams do the inspiring.


Have any of you guys been inspired by your dreams?

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