Each night as I lie and toss in bed,
The words and phrases charge ahead,
It happens almost every night with me,
Usually around the hours of two or three.
There’s a small crevasse between my ears,
Where you’ll find a small desk and chairs,
An alien shows up with his pen in hand,
Why? Well, I guess because he can.
He’s working on things for my books,
Or correcting errors; that’s what he cooks,
Over and over in my head you see,
Then sharing what he writes with me.
Most nights I’ll ignore him; I need my rest,
I know if I leave him alone, he’ll do his best,
When I awake, if it’s important I’ll remember,
And if it’s really good, I’ll crank up the computer.
Where he came from I do not know,
But now I would never tell him to go,
He’s been working so hard to help me,
This I know and can easily see.
He first showed up in two-thousand fifteen,
Having him in my head, I wasn’t too keen,
But he showed me he was indeed a friend,
Helping me write my first novel way back then.
You may think I’m crazy because he’s there,
But what you want to believe, I really don’t care,
Because he showed up to help me for a reason,
He pointed out the path—my books of Four Seasons.
Then he must have liked what he was doing,
He’s hung around and kept the words spewing,
Maybe he’ll stay until I get the last volume right,
All four books side by side will be quite a sight.
He’s not much better than me with typos and such,
With a good editor, it doesn’t matter so much,
The story is what absolutely must be grand,
No one wants to read something boring or bland.
Whomever this little guy is, must also have his faults,
As there are nights when he takes me on walks,
Through times I remember having long past,
Looking for a story, or through me, just having a blast.
I don’t know his name and haven’t seen his face,
I just know he’s there, us both sharing the space,
I never hear from him during the day,
I just remember what that night he had to say.
Some nights I’ll get up, and we’ll work together,
I don’t know why, but at times this seems better,
But he’s quite shy, and I seldom hear a peep,
It’s almost like that he’s now fallen asleep.
But I know he’s there as the stories keep coming,
He’s working hard and his notes he’s sharing,
Fixing problems or writing totally new stuff,
That I’ve never seen and can’t ever get enough.
He’s been with me now for over three years,
The stuff we’ve written to share without fear,
As we know it is all good, and others will like,
The stuff we’ve churned out both day and night.
He also helps me market so sales will soar,
Showing me that people who read want more,
They want to know their author you see,
Grow my brand; an introvert I can no longer be.
So you may see me wearing my coonskin hat,
Dressed up in leather jacket; moccasins to match,
Up on display for all the world to see,
Being the author, my little friend said I must be.
I’m now getting out and am quite the extrovert,
It wasn’t hard to do, and I’m enjoying the perks,
It’s fun meeting and sharing myself with you,
Learn about me and my books through and through.
I’ve made it easy for you to know me better,
The best place to start is through Twitter,
I’ve done this to benefit both you and me,
Search for my handle @riverrmann and you’ll see.
So the next time you pick up one of my books,
Know that the story is as good as the cover looks,
Written from the heart and compiled by the brain,
Of not only me, but the little guy who one day came.