|It seems endless sometimes, but the journey is still worth it.|
Today started out as normal as possible: the mad race to get out the door, the constant worry that the car would keep running, the friendly but disconnected chatter with the people at school, even the silly momentary puzzlement as I tried to decide where to go afterward: would I choose Starbuck’s, Panera, the library, somewhere else completely–heck, did Mom want to meet?
Sometimes I feel like I am spinning in so many little directions I can never see the big turns in the road for what they are. Death by 1000 paper cuts is how my husband describes it (though I suspect he is not the first to use that phrase), and that is a perfect example of the situation: Here I am, sitting at a computer, connected to a broadband carrier that will allow me to use most any websearch service, but I won’t look up that phrase to see who first coined it, mostly because I dare not get “off topic” anymore than I already am. (And truthfully, the quality of most websearches of late has been so mediocre, I’m not sure it would help anyway. Try to Google anything these days without having the first ten links involve some review company or marketing firm–I should know; I just tried looking up the address and phone number of the Monro Muffler Brake in East Greenbush and NEVER even got a link to Monro.com [the store is here, btw].)
|I can finally see the sky|
The majority of the day I spent on remote control or some semblance of it. I was able to compose some ideas for Courting the Swan Song during my bout with 750words (I almost made 2000 today, most of them story related, involving the Oath of Service members of the Royal Guard must make to their Andar and how it affects Alanii and ‘Listii the first time Alanii takes himself a vassal). The ideas were flowing fast and furious actually, so much so that I was often afraid to slow down in my typing lest I risk passing by one. Though I did, often. I know that “first thoughts” are often flawed (at the very least they are often better when allowed to stew and become richer and more full of flavor).
This cornucopia was a product of my most favored form of writing…the day dreaming method (not really its name, just something I call it; I don’t actually know if it even has a name). What this method involves is me staring at my computer screen, playing some mindless cardgame (it has to be a mindless card game, like solitaire–Vegas-style with cumulative scoring) and listening to music (usually something I know very well and am nearly numb to, Vangelis or Tomita both work very well) for often hours without interruption. Then I go to sleep, only to wake up the next morning bemoaning the fact that I can’t just sit for hours and type everything that is spilling out of my dreams. On rare mornings I can sit, with either pen and paper or my laptop, and spew away, but often several hours pass before I reach a point where I can settle down and put the ideas into a more permanent form. Of course I forget some. I remember most however, and those that linger the longest I’ve found full or details and side considerations that launch me into paragraph upon paragraph of a scene. (In the words of those silly people at the Art of Manliness.. this is Invention!)
|When things flow smoothly, it’s beautiful.|
It’s a rare gift when I have a day like this lately; most of my computer time seems to be dedicated to “getting work done”: paying bills, catching up on the back-log of articles and essays I get sent, or typing in second drafts of the many notebooks I have filled over the past many years (most of which will never see the light of day, but serve a different purpose now in inspiring me to new and better things), or showing my son the latest pictures of the planets or Linkin Park videos at his request. Time to just just and stare, to allow my subconscious to work its magic is so rare that I always approach it with the amazement that overtakes me when I see a butterfly….will it stay? how long can I enjoy its presence? WOW!