Dammit, I can WRITE. I am an awesome writer! You would not BELIEVE the fiction that comes from these same fingers that are currently typing this Friday Lame Post. Wait a minute, I mean you WOULD believe it, because my characters are wonderful, and the story would carry you along.
I had thought NOT to have a Friday Lame Post this week since I have been not exactly non-lame for most of the rest of the week. I guess nobody believed that was going to happen, although who knows, it may someday. To that end (as well as for my fitness and weight-loss goals), I ran this morning. I fully intended to write a Running Commentary while at work. Well, let me explain what happened, starting yesterday.
I have mentioned the problems I have been having with the novel I am writing. It’s been at kind of a standstill, progressing at irregular dribs and drabs. Well-written dribs and drabs, I hope, but still. But my determination is unwavering and I persevere. I spend a good portion of every day at least THINKING about my plot and my characters. I come to very few conclusions.
Until yesterday. There I was, at my machine, hard at work, when two lines came to me, rather dramatic lines spoken by two characters who have previously had no interaction. I pondered them and found them to be good. I surreptitiously pulled out the little notebook I carry in my BDU pants and jotted them down. I pondered them more, where they were said, who else was there, what else was happening.
Then the buzzer rang for the two o’clock break. I ran to my full-size notebook and started writing like mad! That has not happened to me in YEARS! A co-worker made a sarcastic remark about my leaving my machine turned on. I went and turned it off. He made another couple of sarcastic remarks. I ignored them.
“Kind of busy here,” I said, which was not particularly well-received, but I was buried in the fiction by now and was unaware of further sarcastic remarks. It was great.
I’ll be damned if a similar thing didn’t happen to me today, on breaks and on lunchs. Perhaps the writing was a little less intense, but I liked it. I admit it wasn’t all good. I would write a scene, then think about it later, realize there was a better thing to happen, get to the next break and write a new, better scene. Oh, it was fun. This is the way writing was meant to be!
And so I didn’t write a blog post. And I’m not apologizing about it. I’m going to go back and work on my novel some more. When I finish it and publish it, you can read it and tell me if I wasn’t right to do so.