A Writer's Prayer

Whoever you are up there, or in my head, or dissolved in the ether around me:

I handed in an outline for an episode of the show yesterday. It's pretty good. With input from my really sharp showrunner it will get better; the inputting will be a bruising experience and I will feel like a scolded third grader, but the scolding will be worth it, for the bettering of the story. By your grace, oh thing in the ether, none of this will happen until late Sunday. Which gives me two full entire errand-free days to work on my book. To dive head first into Part Two. To collect and read the notes I've collected through the decades, see what matters to me, dream my way to what might happen next, and maybe even figure out what word is going to be first out the gate. Oh great whatever the hell you are, give me one thing: make me Be Here. Not in the Huffington Post, not planning what restaurants I might want to eat at in Paris over Christmas, not checking blogs, not padding to the refrigerator to see if anything interesting materialized in there since the last time I checked. Here. Now. My thoughts on only one thing: on what my imaginary friends are going to do next.

I know it's a lot to ask. But I also that you are the Invisible Sky Being for the job.