by Judith Proctor
tune - the cat came back (more or less)
I wrote a little story and it only took a page,
It was clever, it was witty, it had wisdom, it was sage,
It told the tale concisely and it got right to the point,
I could write it in a minute and walk right out the joint -
But it gained another chapter, the very next day,
It kept on getting longer, and it would not go away.
It could use a little edit, it would only add a bit,
The editor glanced through it and nearly had a fit,
"You've left the story open, it must really be resolved,
You cannot leave it now until the mysteries are solved." -
So it gained another chapter, the very next day,
It kept on getting longer, and it would not go away.
It needed more development, the characters were thin,
What of Jenna's piloting, and Avon's manic grin?
And there's little bits with Vila that I didn't write before,
And my solitary proof reader said "More, more, more!"
So it gained another chapter, the very next day,
It kept on getting longer, and it would not go away.
The story's taken over, and I cannot shake it free,
I'm no longer writing it, the damn thing's writing me!
I know I had a life one time; when did it go away?
The novel's taken over and it's here to stay!