Tammy was intrigued by the writing exercise that encouraged her to try something new to ‘think outside of the box’, so she decided to just write…just start writing like Kerouac or Faulkner or Joyce or some other GOOD writer who didn’t have to be poked with a stick to try something different. So she sat at her desk and had no clue how to write ‘stream of consciousness’ or what it even meant…did it imply simply writing tons of run-on sentences or did it mean something deeper and more interesting? Not knowing, or caring for that matter, she just started writing the way she always did, but without worrying so much no fretting over how many times on one page she had used the three dots she loved so much (what do they call those things…oh yeah, elypsis) her best friend when trying to get across the mess of thoughts she had going on, tried to tease them into a coherent sounding sentence one that might make sense to someone else and not just sound Southern which is what she often did, both on purpose and as a result of growing up in the part of the world where words drag out into so many finessed syllables that they sometimes sound like completely new words…that often irritate her until she throws her hands up yet again, either to fling the ‘southern’ off of them or just in sheer weariness of worrying about words and inflections and such. Breathe..just breathe and keep writing that’s what matters she told herself, and don’t be stressed because someone might think that you actually just compared yourself in any way to Kerouac or anyone else for that matter, because you know you didn’t really, but that it feels kind of good to be trying something new, and you write this damn thing for yourself anyway. Right?