Jacqui (jacqui) wrote,

Getting Unstuck

Hey Buddies,

I woke up this morning with a short story forming in my mind. This is extremely unusual for me and when I get inspired I often feel I have to seize the moment and write it down, get it out, or do something to capture the inspiration right away or it'll float off to someone else who is being more grateful and receptive.

I'm always afraid it will go away, but not today, I just sort of lay there watching this story form in my mind. Little by little the story fleshed itself out, people's names came to me, the setting, the situation they were in, and bits of conversation. When I had the whole thing worked out I got up, and made plans to write it down.

I can't tell you how unusual this is for me. I'll never be a Steven King, he must have some kind of super amplified channel or something that he can tune to some extraterrestrial station that only broadcasts scary stories about people in Maine in great gory detail.

Unfortunately, and just as with my Magic Wand, I've become dependent on the ease of technology and am lazy about using my hands. I had a paper notebook and a pen but I just didn't want to write in it -- it's so much easier to use my computer notebook. So I made myself wait until I took care of everything; Beau and his friend who spent the night, checked in with Esther and her sister who came to help me bring all of our Halloween decorations back from our storage unit, the cats and their varying medical problems, got my breakfast, took all of my pills, sorted my vitamins, then played around with my laptop to try to fix the settings that my cats had decided to change for me last night while I was cleaning and bandaging the wound on my heel.

Finally when all of that was taken care of, I forced my perfectionistic, super stuck, writing hands, to outline my story. Of course now that I've outlined it I think it's simplistic and lame but hey, I wrote something, it's fiction and I never write fiction, I didn't think I could, or I haven't liked anything I've tried to write, with the exception of poetry, since high school. Now the hard part will be to get myself to actually take all of the pieces and put them together and finish it.

I think I was inspired last night when I saw a LJ friend's Nanowrimo icon. I'm not going to put myself through the stress of this, this year, but I had promised myself and others that I would take on the Nanowrimo challenge two seasons ago and bang out an autobiography at the very least. Even if I couldn't come up with any fiction, if I just took some of the material I've written here over the years and edited it, at least I would have completed something. But when I started writing it felt stiff and arch and the tiniest bit of constructive criticism from a friend, based on the awful sample I had uploaded to the site, shut me down. Now it's been two years since that day and I can never accept how fast time spins by me. Oh well, what are you gonna do? Keep plodding down the road I guess.

I also stumbled across a journalism site last night that was inspiring so my subconscious must have been happily stimulated and ready to write. What I really need to do is to get out there and take a writing class. I don't think I've ever taken a writing class, one poetry one with some very famous poets, but not writing, not that I can remember and I have such a hard time with just the basics, like ummm punctuation, that I know it would help.

I did sign up for two computer classes with The Learning Annex and at the time, last summer, they had given me until mid-October to use the hours, but you can probably imagine how often I've dragged my aching stressed out body across town and spent some time with these people. I'm going to call them and see if I can get an extension or something.

Okay well, enough rambling, I just found a box of love notes and things from my relationship with Scott when we were keeping it secret. I've been looking for this forever, it has tapes of his songs, cards he gave me, a few Polaroids, I got thinner, he got fatter, and little gifts and things that I felt protective about. Typical, I put precious things in a box to protect them, but then I lose the entire box. Oh well, I found it now, yeay. I hope this poem he once wrote for me is there, it was so beautiful and I've been looking for it for six years I think.

Gotta bathe and get us to storage to begin the Halloween madness. These documentary people are dying to get over here and get some footage of us setting up and I promised them I would call and let them know when we start.

Big weary hugs,


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