Right before the alarm went off I was dreaming that I was writing about the strange dream I’d had. It was full of people looking for things to do, and people pissed off that nothing was getting done–on, and a couple of cable guy who never showed up on time, who would then show up right when you’d just left the house after the appointment “block” was over, and claim you weren’t home–which, of course, you weren’t, because they didn’t show up when they were scheduled.
No one was offering to juice me up, let me tell ya.
I wonder if the reason I had such a weird dream was because I was so entirely not happy with what I wrote last night?
Now, after the excitement Sunday–I do use that term loosely–yesterday was very strange. I was suppose to meet up with a friend online, and when they did show, they were so busy doing other things in real life that I could have used the two hours I spent waiting for them to write. But, like a fool I didn’t. That sort of set me off, and for the rest of the day, and into the evening, it was hard to get the flow back.
Oh, I did write. But I wasn’t happen with it. It felt uneven as hell. I had things I wanted to say, but those things just weren’t there. What came out seem to stutter, to form with an incomplete voice. Whatever was coming out didn’t seem like me.
Sure, I was getting distracted, and that’s my own fault, but of late I haven’t felt like listening to music, and that’s been affecting me when it comes to laying down the tunes. Music has always helped me through some bad times, but these days I feel like I’ve heard it all, and when I try thinking of something new to listen to, I kind of twist my head to one said and thing, “Naw, I don’t want to give that a try.”
The one thing I did do last night was push the story over one hundred ten thousand words. I didn’t push it that much, but that’s okay: there is another chance to fight the good fight tonight. Another chance to sit down at eight PM and get my thousand in before ten. Maybe even rewrite a little of the mess I did last night, because I was also dreaming that I was very unhappy about having to rewrite something, and that’s very likely a direct reference to what happened with my story, rather than within the story.
So, on 30 January, I will have one thousand blog posts completed. That’s next Thursday. The novel won’t be finished–I think there are more that ten thousand words left, though I could be mistaken–but the end for the fire episode will come to a completion soon after.
I have a good idea what comes after both those events are in the slush pile, so to speak. Something wonderful, you ask?
You’ll have to wait and see.