Words fill the screen unseen as I watch my forefingers tip tap what my mind commands. I think faster than I type but slower than I speak. I’m a pantzer. I write as I live No plan, not even an outline. I can think of a better way to die than though of a stroke mid stroke at the keyboard. I can think of more that could be worse. Will my heart hold out until the story is done? I don’t care.
I have no idea where my stories will go, where they will twist or even how they might end. If I did it any other way I’d get bored by page twenty seven and they’d never be finished.
By pantzing I have to carry on. I must see what will happen next. How can he possibly escape, does she even fancy him? I don’t even concentrate on what I write. As I tip tap away, I think of the millions who will pay to read my work, then think of the millions I could earn by simply buying a ticket for the lottery. I hum along to Singin’ In The Rain that loops endlessly on the television behind me. I think of you. I imagine your smile as I write a fresh bit and worry in case I’ve gone too far.
But, you won’t see what I’ve written as I pantz. I’ll never see it again. It’ll be gone after hours spent cutting, adding, and checking to disguise the idiocies.
Everything I write is the greatest thing ever written. It has to be or I wouldn’t bother.