I’m quite pleased with everything I managed to accomplish on my mental health day yesterday. Writing cave established. New ideas pondered. Practice writing done. Hair colored. (I did it myself so it counts)
So I’m trying to get into my writing groove. Several successful authors recommend getting up and writing first thing in the morning. So this morning I woke up around 4 am and decided to try my hand. It didn’t work as well as I’d hoped. I can’t do anything in the morning until I’ve had my shower. It unkinks the joints, gets the sand out of my eyes, and wakes me up. I didn’t want to shower at 4 am because I figured I’d probably want to catch another Z or two relatively soon. So I sat down in front of the ole laptop and…I couldn’t see a thing. There’s a war raging in my eyes between dryness and allergies so until I soothe them with hot water, they aren’t focusing on anything. I don’t count it as a total loss though. I did ponder several story ideas and I still plan on getting up early to write, but now I know I’ll have to shower first. I can do this.
My writing cave is well set. All I need is a lamp. I bought one of those little stick on LED lights that go under cabinets. It promptly fell and exploded. So now I’m going to have to look at some sort of lamp. I need light. I’m one of those tragically sad individuals that just can’t master the art of touch-typing. I’ve tried Mavis Beacon, blacking out a keyboard and forcing myself to type, and nothing’s worked. Even with a blacked out keyboard I was still looking at the keys as I typed. I’ll just have to make sure my editing skills are primo. So light is a must.
I did sit down yesterday and write out a short story. I spent five years playing World of Warcraft so I wrote a little scene where the team leader was falling under the spell of the evil overlord. Write what you know? I know my WoW. It was surprisingly painful. Taking a vision from my head and putting it into words on a screen is not easy, and yet authors manage to create entire worlds that suck me in so completely that I feel like I’m a part of the action, there to rush in to the aid of the main character should he or she need me. I’ve cried when characters have died, and not some delicate ladylike tear down the side of one cheek. I’m talking heaving sob, runny nose, feel like I’ve been punched in the guts crying as though I’ve lost someone near and dear to me. (Suzanne Collins “The Hunger Games” trilogy scarred me for life) That’s the kind of emotion I want to be able to invoke in others. Being able to recognize it (and be smacked upside the head by it) is one thing, but being able to recreate it and sustain it for the length of a novel is quite another. The solution is to keep practicing. Writing is like learning to play an instrument or a sport. There may be a few virtuosos out there who excel from day one, but those are few and far between. The rest of us have to practice and fail multiple times before we get it right. And I have to be honest with myself in that I just haven’t put in the work to make it happen. I plan on changing that.
My final major accomplishment from yesterday was coloring my hair. Hey, I’m a chick. These things are important in our world. I’ve had pretty good outcomes with darker but blonde has been a challenge. My maternal grandmother was Irish and I inherited a ginger hue. So blonde comes out with a copper sheen. It’s a natural looking, pretty color, just not what I was aiming for. I don’t feel too bad though. It does the same thing when I pay a salon $100 as it did out of a box for $10. Same results, a lot less money, life is good.
So today’s grouchy agenda is to get a desk lamp, read some, and write – no matter how painful it may be.
Aside – I picked up a copy of Cassandra Clare’s “The Immortal Instruments: City of Bones” yesterday. It’s coming out as a movie and it looks interesting so I thought I’d give the book a read first. I’ll let you know what I think!
Bye for now!