Writing

It is about time, seriously. I have finally started on this damn book that I have been talking about for years. I am actually writing it in the form of a book, not just random blocks of text, that I would later have to piece together, and try to make them fit into the context of a story. I forgot how much work goes into telling a cohesive story, one that actually has a plot, structure, and theme.

My bogs are usually the first things that come out of my head- they really have no organization. I just kind of sit down and write. Whatever comes out, at that time, is fine with me. This book is different though. It was, and still is, my life-long dream, to tell a story that I feel is worth telling; one that is full of life lessons from doing things the hard and unconventional way, and jam-packed with meaning. I was surprised at how easily I wrote all those pages. It came like liquid, just pouring out of my finger tips. I probably would have written more, if it wasn't for my daughter using this opportunity, of a distracted mommy, to get into trouble, my cell phone going off with calls/text messages, and the house phone ringing . My left wrist is starting to throb, as I pulverized the bones in that one, back in 1997, so a little pain is expected. Nothing worth doing is easy.

So, now I am on a brief hiatus. The subject I am writing about is very personal to me, and it takes a lot out of me, emotionally, to rehash all the hurt and pain. Writing also makes me yearn for all the good times that were had... Knowing that things will never be the same as they were, in any situation, makes writing about everything a great deal easier.

Oh well. What am I going to do with myself? Probably just continue to tap on this keyboard, until I have pumped out a couple hundred pages of the story I want to tell, or until I get carpal tunnel syndrome and I have to get someone else to type for me! But then I would have to do the whole profit-sharing thing, and I am not down for that cause. Overall, I have been satisfied with the work that I have done today, and I feel that I deserve a swim in the pool, as does my daughter. Corn-dogs sound good, as well.

Listening to the usual depressing music, Nine Inch Nails, Something I can Never Have