Don't mind the title of this entry -- not a whiff of sacrilege intended, indeed every writer will understand immediately what I mean. Debbie is published mostly in book reviews, a poem or two, but she gives her all to her fiction writing. This cracked me up. Ah, the writing life...
Hi, Raefriend, warning: do not read if you're depressed! lol I want to whine and complain to someone, and I guess you're it!
I have a headache. Haven't been sleeping lately. So instead of giving in to the desire to go back to bed, I decided to work on Fluri's Fancy, my children's fantasy.
I took a hot shower, got dressed, made a big mug of Stash's Christmas Morning tea. Came into the Carotene Retreat and lit jasmine incense and two votive candles. Jasmine is the scent that shouts WRITING to me.
Got out my disk from my carry satchel that I'd left in the living room when I got in last night. Sat at my desk and was reading through the hard copy and felt a tickle on my hands.
I looked down and yelled--a zillion ants on my computer desk. Why, I don't know. Though I bring in tea or coffee, I don't bring in food. I HATE ANTS! It took me a while to zap them all, then I had to spray some bug spray, and I hate the scent of it. I felt creepy and prickly and tickly afterwards.
Then I sat down again and remembered I'd made some notes on a scrap of paper, so I tore through my satchel, not finding the paper. Who knew it would be in my story fold where it was supposed to be? Then my Internal Editor/Critic, she who resembles the Wicked Witch of the West, started up.
"Why bother? You're no good. What you're writing is crap. Go take a nap and rest your head or start one of the review books..." So I had to stop and do her bodily harm--imagining me tossing a bucket of water on her and watching her lovely wickedness melt...so then I get down to business.
I put in the disk into the computer and my mouse acted up. Then, somehow the toolbar disappeared and the computer started making funny noises. Then Xander wanted to go out and he was damned insistent on it and he turned off my computer!
DOWN DOGGIE didn't do it so I had to go let him out. This old Gateway has the power button right on the front center of the CPR on the desk. You don't know how many times I've put down a pile of books or even my heavy brown coffee mug only to get it too close and it hits the power button. So as I'm rebooting, Her Supreme Wickedness has dried out and reformed and she starts her stuff all over again.
Then another ant skitters across my hand. By this time a nap is looking pretty good! But I plunge into working on a paragraph that needs to foreshadow a couple of things while Her Wickedness assures me that I'm no Bruce Coville.
I need a medievally type of food that a villager would eat that might cause indigestion and hence dreams. Can I find one freaking book with one freaking food that I could use? Hell no! And I have zillions of medieval volumes!
So I choose too many green apples... which brings up a whole new set of worries. One, would there be apples in my fantasy world's geographical area? Two, if I use green apples, when would the time frame of the story be? When do apples grow? Sprign? Summer? Fall? By now I'm pulling out my hair...my headache's worse, and Witch-bitch whispers, 'see, I told you!'
Hugs, Debfriend firstname.lastname@example.org I read therefore I am. MV