*chuckles*
Of course, when I woke up, I got sick in the bathroom. And my Love had to leave with the car because he was already late for work. So when I finally got out of the bathroom like a half-hour after he left, I tried to call in and let them know I couldn't be there because I had been sick and now didn't have the car. But my phone's turned off. Bah. I was going to pay them tomorrow but seems they couldn't wait. My poor Love had to call for me from his work after I sent him an email letting him know I couldn't do it myself.
Oy, what a day.
It's really nice out there. The wind's died down but it's only like 69F which is so nice. By weekend it will be back to 81ish. Bah. Last weekend it was so hot. Temp of like 84F with a feels-like of 87F. Ugh...sweltering already.
Kinda of blah again today. My unsettled stomach isn't helping matters and despite the fact I laid back down and slept a little this morning after being sick, my head's all fuzzy and just sort of off. You know that feeling you get when it's not really wrong, but it's certainly not right either? Not so much that it hurts, but it's just...fuzzy.
Had an idea last night for a story. As in like a novel. Something I've always wanted to do. If I could find the discipline and the patience to sit, plot and work at the craft of writing, I think I could actually do it. Write stories. Sell books. But it's so large and overwhelming that I don't know where to even begin. I've got dozens of ideas and first couple pages of stories on my harddrive that never went anywhere because I was so intimedated by the whole process. I don't know how to convert this mass of concepts and ideas into something tangible and coherant. You'd think with as much as I read I'd have picked up some sembelance of how to perhaps do it; how to frame out the story. But I really feel like I don't. I can read someone else and see their flaws or how they could have improved, but starting from nothing all on my own seems so huge. Perhaps I should be an editor rather then a writer. Not as creative but it might suit my skills more. Though, I swear there are worlds trapped in my head that I'd love to get out and share.
Some authors make it look so effortless; like they're just flowing along with something which already existed, they just had to capture it on paper. I feel that way sometimes with my story ideas. They flare so brightly within me and I just want to pour them out.... but I don't know how to start and I find myself lost in the jumble of it. When I set pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard as it were), the words all get confused and mixed up and they don't sound at all like what I had heard in my mind. So I hate what I write and I lose hope - and thereby interest.
Hrm. I just don't know how to reconcile the want with the inability to do.
Anyway, I guess I'll go for now. Nothing much honestly to talk about and nothing much going on.
~ flowers bloom near Memory and Dream
at 4/15/2004 03:07:43 PM ~
~
