This is what your writing looks like without the fancy packaging.
Flotsam, Reyðarfjörður, Iceland
Carefully hoarded for a rainy day.
Every piece of writing is hammered together out of the words of the dead. The land they wash up on is your subconscious. First your conscious mind drags them out of the tideline, then it piles them up, then it picks them up one at a time, turns them this way and that, and starts putting them together into something of use — usually to shelter or feed the body it keeps. To rephrase: the land is your subconscious. By writing, you are building homes for the living within shrines for the dead. In such a situation, surely zombie fiction is poised to go mainstream.