Week 3, part of it anyway

Day One--
I woke to news of an earthquake in Chile.  One of my very best friends is in Chile, so I spent the morning...and afternoon...and early evening hovering about Facebook waiting for news.  I cursed her husband for dragging her down there for a season every year.  I cursed myself for not being psycho enough of a friend to have gotten in the way of that.  I prayed.  Now I'm writing this, not so that she'll read it someday and want to kick my ass, but because reading this someday might bring back that sense of moving from task to task, tearing up, coming back to the computer in case there's news...

What are those lines in the U2 song?  "Every artist is a cannibal/every poet is a thief/all kill their inspiration/and sing about their grief."  I don't know about killing my inspiration, but now that the news has reached me that my girl is okay, I'll all right with mining those feelings later.

During my aimless wandering about the house, I turned on the TV (catching up on Past Lives via Hulu might have distracted too much from Facebook hovering).  There was an old episode of Grey's Anatomy playing a song that clicked...


One of my attempts at writing Wade happened during NaNo.  In those early hours of the month, recreating the story by the seat of my pants, I found her falling for the most inappropriate hero.  (As a total aside, that scene/storyline was surely born of the earlier mentioned best friend and I walking down a stone paved street in Austria and falling hopelessly for a gorgeous priest/monk as only teen-aged girls can do.  Almost 20 years later, it just appears in my writing.)  I'd been considering dropping it; it had been fun, but...That woman's voice and those lyrics told me keep that bit.  And that led to a few things that will have to happen...so plotting and the start of a soundtrack where I least expected it.

Day Two--I started off with some story work, but, knowing that I was clueless on a paper due Tuesday.  I wish I were still clueless.  It ate my whole day, and I still don't feel prepared to write the thing.  Or, to be more honest, I expect As out of my papers, and this material makes me feel like I'll produce a C.  I want to fight Andy Warhol, mostly because he's dead growling at him is less dangerous than growling at the man who will grade my assignment. 

I hear Nathan Fillion's voice in the other room, so I'll cut my bitching short and move on to...

Day Three--I've got many hours left on this day, but I stumbled on a post about a guy who has 11,000 rejection letters, and if that's not worth sharing, I don't know what is.  If nothing else, THIS is the guy I need to track down to teach me about organization.  How does he find the time?!  Sure the message is supposed to be "keep at it!", but I'm finishing my bachelors almost 20 years late, with nothing ready to send to be rejected, while he's gotten seven degrees and that many rejections plus 100 shorts published.  Damn.

These distractions aside, I've been itching to actually write the fiction I've been working on.  I'm off to create that infernal paper so I can get to it.