I haven’t slept for seven months. I work during the day. The rest of the time, between preparing and eating meals and running necessary errands, I write. I’ve written three book-length stories in that time. None of them are finished, of course. They need editing. But the lack of sleep has given me some excellent writing fodder. The hallucinations started in week two. I know they’re hallucinations because I see people who have died. Among other… things. Creatures, horrors, fairies, paradise, forests, valleys, trenches, deep abysses I fall through as I sit at my desk and type furiously. I write about what I see, and I know I never could have come up with these things on my own. People will be dying to find out where I get my ideas. When they ask, I will say, “I come up with a concept before I can see the image, and as I write it takes form in my mind’s eye.” And of course, they’ll believe me. If I can survive that long on no sleep.
[Note: before you ask, no, this is not even remotely true. I sleep too much. There is a reason this is part of the Another Life series.]