So far the morning I’ve been dealing with a number of frustrating things. I’m out in “the world”, and I can’t connect to the Internet—not knowing if this is an issue with my computer, or the internet around me in general. I’m tired because I was up at 5:30 after rolling off to bed at 11:00 PM.
It’s frustrating, I’m telling ya. It makes me want to stay home and do nothing.
Last night I decided to take another Friday off. I was up at five AM, and on the work computer at six, then off to have to car worked on, then back to the work computer . . . by the time I finished I was dealing with a house that was way too warm—someone decided they needed the heat turned all the way up because they’re cold—and it was necessary to open windows to cool off.
My browsers kept locking up on last night. I’d try listening to music, and I’d be half way through an album and BAM! Browser would lock up. High powered pissed off last night, I was.
Though, suddenly, the internet is up! I have an address. It must have heard my bitching . . .
There is something else here, and it’s bothering me too: I’ve an idea for another story.
I know what you’re thinking: ”Oh, another idea! You should be so cursed, you writer, you!” In a way it is a curse, because I get these ideas and I’m I’m awake in the early morning house, and before you know it, it’s occupying your mind and trying to take over you life like some asshole Goa’uld who thinks it would be a gas to put you through hell while making a complete mess of your life. I mean, it’s not like he or she will be around after they’ve made you drive your car through a mall; they’ll just hop into the next body that comes along and leave you to take the heat.
Story ideas are like a Goa’uld: they enter your head, wrap around your brain, and whisper things into your mind. They dominate your life; they make you listen to things you wouldn’t listen to normally, and if you’re unlucky, they’ll make you act. I sway unlucky, because if you’re in the middle of something–or even at the begging of something, as I am at the moment–you are tempted to listen to the whispers, abandon what you’re doing, and move over to this new idea, because it sounds to nice.
That Snakehead Idea is lying! It’s not better; it’s not going to smother you in kisses and tell you how great a writer you are if you abandon that slutty story you’re now doing, and come do me, because I am the true hotness you’ve been looking for your whole life.
This is the reason some writers never get anything done, because they are into a story, and when a new idea comes along, they think, “Hey, that does seem like a great idea, I better write that story–I can also come back to this one later . . .”
But do they? Usually not, because not only is the seduction too great, but then another lying ass Goa’uld comes along–probably looking a lot like Osiris, which was some niceness, even if he/she wanted to kill you as soon as look at you–and tells you that this time, this story is gonna rock your world.
What does this mean for me today?
It means I gotta write.
My Goa’uld won’t have it any other way.