Yes, it’s Wednesday, and we are this close to getting through the half-way point of another week. To me, it feels like just another day.
There was something strange going on in my dreams last night, but that all seems to be fading at the moment. All I can seem to remember is trying to park some steampunkish monstrosity inside the lobby of a building, and discussing what would be needed to reprogram a Babbage Machine. Oh, and wandering down a dark path with a couple of people in front of me, and there’s someone whispering in my ear that I need to wait for them because they have all the knives. I stop and wait for them to catch up, but I never see who they are, because as they walk out of the gloom that seems to be the darkness, everything transitioned into something else, and I never found out what they were bringing me.
I have a feeling I know who the person is, but I can’t say for sure. I knew the voice, but I never saw the face. Then again, I’ve heard that voice many times before in dreams. And seen the face. This is, once more, my subconsciousness trying to tell me something. Or, perhaps, remind me of my infinite sadness.
I joked on Facebook last night that I was writing sex scenes for my story, Couples Dance, and did it all while listening to Crowded House, Yes, and Neil Young. All true, really. There was something instinctively unusual about describing fairly raw scenes in a pornographic movie that one of my main characters was watching on his computer, and listening to Neil Finn singing about private universes in that mellifluous voice of his.
But that is the way we are, right? Us writers, I mean. Sometimes juxtaposition is nothing but a way of life for us. We are always coming up with new and inventive ways to throw people off balance when they are into one of our stories. We don’t mean to do it, but some times you want to keep the reader on their toes, make them work for that thrill. If you make it easy for them, you might not get them coming back for more.
I’m very close to creating another novel here–and, by taking the advice of a good writing friend, I’ll still have a novella that I can market as well. Funny how that works out. I can actually sell both, make money, and chuckle all the way to the Writer’s Bank thinking about how inventive we can be when we put our minds to it.
What I was writing last night, too . . . there were some dark undertones to it as well, and I could feel it coming out. I had to stop where I was last night, because the next scene I imagined–yeah, it goes right off the cliff. Or so i think. I won’t really know until I get it down on paper tonight. Then I can kick back and see if I did what I wanted to go, which was go from the sexy into the horrifying.
I’m usually pretty good with that transition. After all, it is Wednesday, that brief transit where the dreams collide.
Sorry, Lin. But I know a good line when I hear it.