My dog peed on the couch. I have two tables. One coffee one for eating on. Both are full of piles of stuff. Some clothes stuff on one and books and junk and four picture frames on the other. All pain in the ass excuses not to write. Tonight someone called me stella and told me to get my groove back. Well honey, I started grooving. I grooved some characters and a little story and a plot and all. I got index cards and bubble charts and fun stuff happening. I figured after all that i might as well start writing. Do a short story and expand from there. ANd I wrote.
And I wrote.
And. I. Wrote.... Stella wasn't grooving.
I read back over what i'd written. There wasn't anything wrong with it per se. It was just a little familiar and boring. And familiar. But not familiar in that comfy, this is my voice, way. It was familiar in that... "Holy shit I'm ripping off Charlaine Harris!!!!" kind of way. LIke a ton of bricks dude. A TON of bricks.
Here's the thing, (I'm starting to think that should have been the name of my blog) I don't have cable. And by cable, I mean I don't have any television that runs into my house. If I want to watch the news it has to be online. Feelin me? I should also note that without expansion, this has been a really tough year for me. You know how sometimes when you're going through shit your brain just won't shut off? So you flip on the tv and watch a movie or bad tv? Well not me, I read simple fast paced books that don't take a lot of brain power. Enter Sookie Stackhouse novels. I love them. They are fun and basic and damn entertaining. BUT the problem is I read them all. In a row. over the course of the last three weeks. I lost my voice in there somewhere. I forgot how to write like me but I'm looking and i'm trying and I'll find Clementine again if it's the last thing I do!
*Did that make any sense?