Listening to: Underneath – Adam Lambert
Does anyone have a term of endearment that they like to be called? Maybe it’s just me, but I super hate being called baby. I call my son that. He’s three. Every time I read books where a guy calls his girl- or boyfriend baby, I want to smack him.
Starting my usual routine of writing when humans do the sleep thing. I may actually sleep tonight, though. I got about 1100 words already, in a scene that I didn’t see coming and didn’t know what to do with once it emerged. Another thread that needed reference, if not necessarily tying up.
Some nights I write while listening to music (i have a 15+ hour playlist for this story) and others, I get so caught up and productive that I forget that I could have been doing that.
Then there are nights like tonight when I find out that my expensive headphones are worth every last penny and I just JAM like a mini concert. I could make a joke about arthritic dancing, but chair dancing looks good on anybody. Joking aside, the dancing makes it a lot easier to deal with the awkward moments when I stare at what I just wrote and mouth, “Where the eff is this going?”
I still am not sure, but there’s no harm in leaving it until the thing is done. If it goes somewhere, awesome. If not, cutting room floor. When I realised that I hit 70K, I panicked, terrified that I wouldn’t be able to wrap up in 30K or less.
Now, I have to laugh. Long gone are the days when I fought to get a 3K minimum to finish a chapter. I feel so much looser about everything. So much less freaking out than I used to have.
Some of it is having bigger problems. My arthritis is still foremost on my mind. It keeps me from doing things–especially if they involve driving–and as for Happy News, still no joy. I lost a dear relative recently, and the only salve is that my mother was able to be there with her. Owen starts school on Wednesday. It’s just two hours twice a week preschool, but it’s structured and outside our home. It’s school.
My creative muscles are really beginning to feel the denouement. I keep vascillating between wanting to start something new (i have so many things on the Next list) and just going back over this one. Stewing, sometimes.
Every now and then, I just want to shake a fist and go, “Dangit, endings.”