I am teetering on the edge of a precipice.

Of course, literally, that might mean I’m standing at the top of a craggy cliff looking down at a bed of rocks.

One that would hurt a lot whether I landed there.

But there are many ideas of what that precipice might be, metaphorically.

It might mean, in an argument, you’re approximately to say something you’ll regret or can’t take back.

It might mean you are one action away from turning your parent. or someone else, into a green-eyed monster, and do something you thought you’d never do.

Pushing them to the precipice.

It might mean you are one thought or idea absent from solving a problem.

Like the title of your next book.

Or the formula to create a warp drive.

Or possibly a simpler problem like where the money is coming from to pay next weeks bills.

My precipice?

The next plotline for my current NaNoWriMo project.

And, no, I’m not normally one of these writers who plan the whole novel before writing it.

But ideas like this, they just happen.

I generally write my stories in the same manner it would be for the reader, not knowing what will happen next, but it’s tough not to.

It’s bloodless and wet at the top of the cliff …

Damn!  Just had an idea.  Got to go.

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