Friday, November 17, 2017

The Voices In My Head

Thanks Pixabay.com
I spent a whole day this past week wondering why I bother. Why do I even think about writing? What's the use? What's the point? Who am I kidding, I stink. I'm terrible. I'm sick all the time. I don't write enough. I can't think. I have so much to do and can't get my act together.

I give up! I just quit. I'm not going to bother even trying. I can't do it anyway and my mind seems to have taken a permanent vacation. So, I should, too.

Yeah, I said that.

And was immediately miserable.

I don't write because someone makes me. Maybe if they did, I'd be more productive. I do it because I can't help it. Even when I feel awful, I try and write something. But it seems so little that I end up angry and frustrated with myself.

Every year I start a schedule but then something happens about 4 months in that totally derails me. Usually, my RA or Fibromyalgia flares and I'm knocked down. I keep writing but the momentum is gone and sometimes, even the energy. I become too ill to get anything done.

Today was one of those days. I went back to bed after I got Sarah to school and slept hard for two more hours. The rest of the day I lay in my recliner, still exhausted. I can't tell you what I did because I don't remember. I dozed off and on all afternoon. I think I read some. I think I went somewhere.. oh yeah, to lunch with Mike. Wow, totally forgot that. My back hurt, my hand hurt, and I was so tired when I got home, it was an effort to stay awake. So, I slept. Those types of days are frequent.

I beat myself up. I flay myself until I'm bleeding from every pore. Metaphorically, of course. I fall into a depression and despair of every producing another completed piece. I quit. At least once a year.

Then, I find something in a file that I wrote. And I'm shocked because I don't remember writing it and I wonder how I wrote such beautiful prose. Then, the voices in my head start talking about the story, pouring details so fast I can't keep up. I'm driven back to the keyboard to get it all down and repeat the process.

Maybe I'll finish something. Maybe I won't. That bothers me most. But I can't stop. I can't quit. I have no choice. The voices in my head won't let me quit. They may become overwhelmed by pain and despair but they refuse to remain silent for long.




NaNoWriMo: In Still of the Night

Middle of the night, in a strange city, on a lonely street. A woman alone. Or is she?

Is she in her own city and couldn't sleep?

Does she make a habit of walking at night for some nefarious purpose.

Is she going to meet her enemy? Or a friend?

That's the thing about these images. You can write it anyway you want. As long as you build your word count.

Thursday, November 16, 2017

NaNoWriMo: Thursday Initiation

Again, this is for those who are writing unusual stories. I won't label them with a genre. You can do that. But try and get this little scene in there.

I know there are at least 1000 words in this photo. Really. I could do it. 

What's this drink for? Why is it being served in this manner? Who will drink it? Is this some sort of ceremony? A picnic in the woods? Is she just warming the wine/drink with her hands? WHAT! 

Come on, fill in the story here.

Photo Attribution

I've tried to attribute all photos to their sources. Should you find an error, please notify me.

If known, unless otherwise noted, all photos are either my own or from Pixabay.com. You may not copy, download, or otherwise use my personal photos. Visit Pixabay.com for information on their photos.