Category: writing

Writing Time Again

Yesterday’s writing session went well. Only five pages finished, taking me to two sixty, and closer to the story’s end. More of the final details flashed into me, which was really exciting.

I kept writing in my head in my après-writing walk, which ended up being two and half miles. I’d just kept writing in my head and forgot about the time or distance. I was ravenous by then, as it was after three and I’d not eaten lunch.

Books had been given to me for Christmas. I began reading one of them last night after watching the news, but had only read a paragraph before the urge to add a line to my novel jumped into me. Opening the document, I added that line and then experienced more ideas and wrote three more pages.

This morning, as I fed les chats, I wrote in my head and decided to add another line to the novel. So I sat down in the sweats that I wear to bed and wrote two more pages as I ate breakfast.

That seemed to satisfy the muses.

Breakfast is finished but I’m not dressed or anything. Must clean up, shave, brush the teeth, etc., so I can go out and write like crazy, at least one more time, and have a cuppa coffee. Haven’t enjoyed a drop yet today.

I take it all as it comes.

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Primed

Yesterday was a particularly intense writing day. I added twelve pages (and edited multiple sections), shunning other activities to stay in the tube. Ran out of coffee; butt went completely numb. A friend later said, “I saw you at the coffee shop writing. You were so intense, I think you were scaring people. I sure as heck didn’t want to disturb you.”

Yes, twelve new pages are a lot for me to accomplish in one day. My sessions generally top out at five to six. More, though, after ‘finishing’ writing for the day, the muses continued feeding me pieces of story, scene, and characters. Getting in here today, words fill my pathways, ready to find the page, a fantastic feeling.

I’ll write today but not tomorrow (damn coffee shop is closed for some holiday, can you believe it?), and then resume Thursday. I thought, hopefully I won’t lose momentum, and then shrugged that off. Momentum comes and go. Long as I keep putting my ass in a chair and turning on the computer in front of me, progression will continue, not always as a deluge or a storm, but at least at a gentle trickle.

I started this project on November first. I’m at two hundred fifty pages (71,000 words). My goal is to limit it to a three-hundred page draft, and I think that’s within reach. Of course, I have to laugh at myself (and my muses), as sequels (and tangents) have leaped into my imagination stream.

Got my coffee. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

Cheers

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The Dreams

No dreams last night that I remember. Wonder what that’s all about?

Slept normally and feel wonderful today. Strong and exciting day of writing yesterday. Holiday parties successfully navigated, and now in the rear view mirror.

I guess, no stress. The dreams were standing down for the night. Odd feeling, not to have dreams to think about as I pursue the morning.

Onward.

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In Class Again – A Dream

First, I was in a class that was finishing. Big classroom, many students, in a large and modern school. Once done, you’d advance to a higher level, or graduate and leave.

I wanted to advance and felt certain that I would. When it was announced that I would be part of the advancing class, I was very pleased; it was a welcome shift from recent dreams where I was consistently passed over. The male instructor then further commented that I had more credits than needed by a large number. My ego ballooned when I heard that.

A dozen were selected for advancing, including me. All the others were females. We had to share beds, which seemed peculiar, three or four to a bed. I slept on the edge of one bed, turned away from the women in the bed. One kissed me on the cheek and said, “Meet me in the break room.”

She and I went to the break room. It was supposed to be in the middle of the night, so we were surprised that the lights were all on and many people were doing things in there, mostly in discussion groups or studying. The women and I looked for a place to sit down. Then I was summoned to help move a large planter. Four people were already there, so I was surprised that they needed another.

Lifting it, I found it very light. All but one of the others then left. I was told to put the planter back where it was. When I protested, I was told that this was a ruse. The women had changed her mind about me, and was distracting me so she could leave.

I shrugged that off because that’s what I suspected was going on. As I was up (in the dream), I found a table and sat down to write.

The dream ended.

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