When I sit at my Mac and try to write, I find myself wasting time...for the most part. I surf the web. Look at interesting sites I've bookmarked. Check the news (as nasty as it is, lately). Comment on blogs. Have flame wars with right-wing-nuts. Get berated. Get praised. Listen to music. Watch videos on YouTube. And just wander. Sometimes for days.
But suddenly the world can vanish as this wave rolls over me...and I never know where it's coming from or what it means until it's done. I have fifteen different projects I want to write or rework into books. I've been working on "Place of Safety" for years, trying to get at least a first draft completed. I have others I've been able to get myself to do quick rewrites on. And I manage to move ahead in steps and stages. But then...like the flicking of a light switch...I turn into coma-guy and nothing else matters.
I eat less, and I drink too many DPs and OD on hot tea. I sit at the keyboard for hours at a time, breaking only when my bladder can't hold another minute (I think that's why I focus on the fluids instead of the solids; takes less time to pee than shit). I'll take short breaks when things get too intense...but then I'm drawn back to the project that's taken over my life.
Today is the first time I actually can acknowledge that I tend to work this way. It's not so much a case of waiting for the muse to strike or birthing characters who then snap at me like drill sergeants out to mold my will to theirs. It's more a low-key psychosis that boils up from within and explodes into my world...and I become brutally resentful of anything that takes me away from it.
I've had moments of this on POS...and on BC and LD. I'm having one, again, and it's taking all my will power to write this instead of continuing with the story I'm channeling. Since in the space of 3 days...no...two days, since I can only write at night during the week...I've written 30 pages.
I have no idea where this one is going, but it's already taken a turn for the vicious and has become a bit scary to me. And it's left "Dair's Window" crushed on the side of my life's road, for the moment, as POS waits calmly around the corner. Brendan always was the survivor.
I guess I don't know me and never will. That or I'm crazy as hell and am just now catching onto the fact. Whichever it is, I'm off to do battle with words and grammar, again. Tally-ho!
Okay, that last word definitely means I'm nuts!
But suddenly the world can vanish as this wave rolls over me...and I never know where it's coming from or what it means until it's done. I have fifteen different projects I want to write or rework into books. I've been working on "Place of Safety" for years, trying to get at least a first draft completed. I have others I've been able to get myself to do quick rewrites on. And I manage to move ahead in steps and stages. But then...like the flicking of a light switch...I turn into coma-guy and nothing else matters.
I eat less, and I drink too many DPs and OD on hot tea. I sit at the keyboard for hours at a time, breaking only when my bladder can't hold another minute (I think that's why I focus on the fluids instead of the solids; takes less time to pee than shit). I'll take short breaks when things get too intense...but then I'm drawn back to the project that's taken over my life.
Today is the first time I actually can acknowledge that I tend to work this way. It's not so much a case of waiting for the muse to strike or birthing characters who then snap at me like drill sergeants out to mold my will to theirs. It's more a low-key psychosis that boils up from within and explodes into my world...and I become brutally resentful of anything that takes me away from it.
I've had moments of this on POS...and on BC and LD. I'm having one, again, and it's taking all my will power to write this instead of continuing with the story I'm channeling. Since in the space of 3 days...no...two days, since I can only write at night during the week...I've written 30 pages.
I have no idea where this one is going, but it's already taken a turn for the vicious and has become a bit scary to me. And it's left "Dair's Window" crushed on the side of my life's road, for the moment, as POS waits calmly around the corner. Brendan always was the survivor.
I guess I don't know me and never will. That or I'm crazy as hell and am just now catching onto the fact. Whichever it is, I'm off to do battle with words and grammar, again. Tally-ho!
Okay, that last word definitely means I'm nuts!
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