Dreams these days are rather strange, and last night was no exception. For some reason I dreamed I was at a party when Yoko Ono showed up and decided to flash everyone with her new breast implants, before showing everyone her newest masterpiece, statues of John and May Pang drowning in a five liter container of Yoko’s urine–which, if you know Yoko, playing with containers of urine is something she used to do all the time. (One famous story has her giving a gallon container of her urine to a friend who was returning to Japan. She said she wanted to give her friends back in her home country a present . . .)
There was some other things going on as well, but that’s what I remember the most, and not exactly the best thing in the work to wake up with stuck in your mind.
Part of this was probably due to a little bit of writing last night. Thursdays are always a bit of a pain, because it’s the one night I watch any television–which I did–and by the time I was able to get to Suggestive Amusements, it was about nine-forty PM. It didn’t allow for a lot of writing time, because I was heading off to bed about ten-fifteen, so I got into writing–
But I didn’t get into a groove. It was a bit halting as I tried to find the perfect words to say what I wanted to say. I think it’s more likely my brain is looking for the correct thing to say rather than being completely out to lunch, because I wasn’t falling asleep at the computer last night as I had been the night before. At least not at the beginning, but after ten PM my head was going, “Fuzzy, fuzzy,” and I got the hint. Normally I’m upset if I don’t get in my thousand words–or at least five hundred–but I did three hundred seventy-seven, and since Chuck sez you can do three fifty each day for a year and write a novel, I’m not going to get upset with myself. I’ll take my almost four hundred and bank it, ’cause they were more words than I’d started with when I opened Scrivener.
But last night–ah, I got into the real kink, the start of the change for Elektra and Keith, and while it felt a little clumsy to write what I was writing, it also felt good. It felt like I was revisiting something I’d left behind a long time back, and thought, “Yeah, this ain’t that bad.” Any time you leap into the unusual you’re gonna get some strange feelings, but this whole story is a bit strange, so what’s a little transformative magic to liven things up, hum? Press on, old but young penmonkey, and get those words out there for people to see.
Now that I have the entry into this kinky hell wide open, I’m expecting to throw on about ninety minutes of music tonight, and jumping right into the fun. I’m of a mind that I might finish this chapter up with fifteen hundred more words, but that really depends on what I see happening. I mean, I get my groove on, and that count might go another two thousand–
Maybe even more.
I have been known to do that.