Believe it or not, the days seem to be getting better. I know: that’s not something I talk about a lot. But it would seem that I’ve reached some kind of . . . I don’t know? Equilibrium? Without having to kill Sean Bean, that is.
It seems like even work–that existential placeholder for what passes for my personal Hell–isn’t that bad these days. Yes, I’d rather be off doing something else, and I still hate this quiet, uninteresting office, but I’m surviving.
Perhaps I feel invigorated by this idea of collaborating on a story. I’ve been working in the wasteland for such a long time that I feel that need to connect with someone I know very well, and to be creative with them, that it’s jacking my senses in a good way. Then again, Annie always does that to me. After all, we have collaborated in this story, when it was role playing comments. We know where we can go with the story. And I know the world in which we can write our characters, so it’s very much win-win.
I even managed to get a good response from Annie when I explained to her how magic in this world works. One can do some major damage with certain kinds of magic, and . . . I think I impressed her.
I always enjoy impressing Annie.
There is also the ongoing editing of Couples Dance. I was into one of the strangest scenes last night, seventeen hundred sixty words of a pretty madding scene, and even though I wanted editing to be over, I was enjoying the process of polishing the scene. The more I play with these editing thing, the more I enjoy it. I don’t think I’ll ever like it completely, but what writer ever does? One can see just how the story really comes together, however. It’s a skill to learn, one to improve upon. The better I get at this, the better my stories will get.
There was an interesting moment for me last night, however . . .
The lights were out and I was in bed, trying to get comfortable. So I’m laying there, closing my eyes . . .
And it felt like there was someone else in the room. Not in a good way, either.
The reality was, it felt as if the person entering the bedroom was Samara Morgan (or Yamamura Sadako, if you prefer) from The Ring movies. And it wasn’t cute little Samara coming to tuck me in–no, it was “Crawl Out of the TV and Eat Your Soul!” Samara. She was right there, behind me, looking at my trying to sleep, stepping a little closer, reaching out, getting ready to touch . . .
Smiling the whole time.
Needless to say, for about five minutes I felt like I was in the grips of the night terrors. It didn’t go away until I actually made myself turn and look to see if she was actually there.
She wasn’t. So I was able to sleep.
That’s the first time that’s happened in a very long time. It also made me wonder if there could be a story in what happened to me.
Maybe I should make notes about it . . .
Oh, wait: I just did.
