The Mojo Go Go

Yesterday afternoon, after arriving home from work and a quick dinner of Taco Bell, I hoped to get in a nap before going to derby practice.  That didn’t happen due to a fly who decided it was far better if it landed on my face every thirty seconds, making getting to sleep an impossibility.

So when I got up I headed over to the computer and did something I hadn’t done in a week.

I wrote.

I picked up where I’d left off last Wednesday before getting ready to hit the road for the weekend and continued onward with what’s happening up on the third floor of the Salem hospital.  It was a bit of a rough going, however, as I couldn’t remember if I’d left off with Coraline or Annie speaking, necessitating having to rewrite the first paragraph I wrote because I’d gotten something wrong.

But it was a good session and I left the scene where I know I can pick it right up without a problem, because what’s happening next is easy to figure out.  I would have continued further with the scene, but it was necessary to change and load up my gear and head out to my 9 PM practice, where I spent the next two hours skating my butt off.

(In case you may wonder what sort of shenanigans I get up to at practice, our cardio was skating 50 laps, which works out to about 1 3/4 miles.  With all the other skating we did, by the time practice was over we’d skated about two and a half miles.  I think it’s safe to say we do about two miles of skating every practice.)

It’s likely I’m heading off to practice tonight as well, so before heading out the door at 7:15 I’ll get a few hundred more words in so I can keep this train moving forward.  That means getting into the next scene–

And I realized that one of the reasons I’ve been falling off on writing is that the next scene is gonna have some things in it that are… let’s just say it may not be good for my kids.  And I always get this way when I have to do something bad to them.  Not that they’re real or anything, but–you know what I mean.  It hurts because I know it’s going to hurt them.

I’m like a bad parent in a way.

Then again, if they didn’t do these things, I wouldn’t feel bad writing about them…