I stay up all night and write then I sleep, get up and start all over again.
I take a notebook and write when I go to the mall or when I go to restaurants.
I listen to people and write what they say.
I write what people say when I talk on the phone.
I write what flows through my brain even though most of the time it’s junk and doesn’t make much sense.
I look at magazines and write the words I see.
I’d describe the granite table top I’m writing on if I felt like it, then I’d describe the edges.
Or, I’d write about the plastic bottles I took from the garbage can that day and the crotch of that fat girl getting rid of all those plastic bottles inside her car while I was waiting to get gas and she was bent over throwing them into the can.