Quote of the Moment

"What's Past Is Prologue." - William Shakespeare

Friday, January 23, 2004

This has been quite an unsuccessful week. I feel like I'm getting sick, which is just miserable. Bleh. It was so f#*%ing cold yesterday in Wisconsin, I wanted to scream (believe me it is not fun walking to work when with the wind chill it feels like -25 below 0, even if it is only a 5 minute walk). Last weekend was a bit productive at least, since I got 8 pages written. So, I hope to redeem myself this coming weekend. Churn out some fresh pages and attack my first three chapters (urgh and double urgh). Great it's snowing. Walking home for lunch will be a thrill. Okay, yes I'm in a horrible, complaining mood. At least my brain isn't unhinged from my head like the last post. That's all I have to say today. And I should actually do some work work instead of staring forlornly out the window and vetching in my blog to whoever happens to stop here and read it. Work, work, work....I'd rather be at home in bed, well rested and eager to write.

Monday, January 12, 2004

Well, I came back from my residency last Thursday. Lots of motivation seething through me and stuff like that. I was rolling this weekend - chopped down my synopsis to one page single spaced in five hours (cringe and double cringe). Read my critique group member's novel pages, getting ready to critique it. Also wrote three pages. Now it's Monday, and work has drained every ounce of will out of me. Is it the weekend yet? I don't have the luxury of only working on my project and everything that goes along with it on the weekends only. I think I'm more disappointed in myself. Damn it I should be able to handle more than this! All the things I want to get done, and all the things I need to get done, and my body just doesn't want to do it. I'm a pathetic loser who needs to get her ass in gear and stop thinking what I have to do and do it. Okay, I'm a bit better now. Just need to yell at myself once in a while, point out what a fool I am, things like that. I'll be fine. It will all get done in the end, whether or not my mind and body have to go through prolonged torture (that is to yank the motivation out of me, because the writing I love, it's the energy I need). Did this make any sense? Am I sounding two-faced, double-headed? My mind is split in a million directions and it doesn't know which way to think. Hmm, I like that sentence. Oh, oh, I thought of this today that sounded cool: Metal squeaking like a chirping baby bird. I know it's probably dumb, and I know I'm all over the place. Eh. Maybe I have schizophrenia. That would be interesting... Interesting - one of the most boring words in the English language. It doesn't describe anything. If anything, it's now interpretted as being negative - as in someone thinks your story idea is interesting, they really mean, I don't like it but I'm too much of a coward to be honest. I think I'm done now. Are you done sounding stupid brain? Food - that's what I need. If my husband would get home with the food I might not sound so nutty. Hahahahahahahahahahahaha. >:) For those who don't know that's the devil smiley. That's it, I'm possessed. Why can't a demon that makes me into a compulsive work-a-holic/frantic writer possess me? I'm forcing the demon to stop talking through me now. Ta ta!