Leaky Turnip

Uuuuggggghhhhh.

Lately it feels as though my brain has been replaced with some kind of overripe turnip. Ineffectual, overtaxed, and beginning to smell a bit as a frothy juice dribbles out of my ear. Needless to say, I haven't been able to write much lately.

I wouldn't call it "writer's block," really. It's more like "writer's lack of creative energy." I have stories, I know where I want them to go, I know what to write next. But as soon as I sit down, the only thing that comes to my mind is, "Yeah, fuck this," and I go lay down and try to catch up on the missed hours of sleep from the night before.

Now, what I need to do is find a new job. ow my official title is office bitch at an office in which a real queen bitch resides on her throne of malcontentedness, reeking of disapproval and stale cigarettes.

I recently read an article titled, "6 Signs That Show You Need To Change Your Career" or something verbose like that, and I swear I achieved each sign with flying colors. Searching for a new job while at work, not making enough, etc. But can I quit?! No ¬¬ Why, you ask? No, of course you don't ask, because we're in a recession and I should count myself lucky enough to have a job in the first place. But I truly do loathe it here and can think of a multitude of other things that i'd rather be wasting my time at, including working at a McDonald's. Seriously, I can't eat there so I don't see the problem. Start me up front, gimme a bucket, I don't care. At least there will be some mild level of interaction that I can delve into instead of vegetating slowly into my seat, mind numb with the anticipation of the day that God shines a merciful glance my way and vaporizes me out of my mortal existence. And I hope He does it right in the middle of my invoicing. That'd show the queen bitch.

Bah, the turnip is starting to leak again, I'll continue this wonderful rant later.

Notebookage!

Oh the power of a brand new Top Flight brand 60 sheet Memo Book, 3 x 5 inch pages, top bound with a metal loop spiral, 30 point card-stock backing, 17 lines per sheet, straight from Chattanooga, Tennessee. Gets 36 mpg on the highway and can go from 0-80 in under 4 seconds. Mmmmmmmm....

I always find that I can write easier when I've owned one of these little bastards for a while. I think it's because normally, if I have ideas, I smile and think, "Wow, that would make a really good story!" And then I see roadkill/Lover'sLane/a homeless person/the moon/etc and within minutes that idea is loooonnnggg gone, never to return. Didn't even leave a note.

However, when I can get in the hang of writing stuff down in a notebook, ideas, song titles, whatever, it usually helps me later on when I sit down. Because otherwise I'm forced to come up with ideas on the spot and that just never turns out well. Many a crappy story has been typed out and deleted because of that forced process and I'd really rather not waste time with bad writing.

So, here's to my new, green notebook (and to its sister, whom I assume I will begin writing in shortly, given the size of these dinky things).

Woooo, new blog!

Alright.

So my well of creativity is running dry. My hinges are rusting and my gears have some weird orange gunk built up where there was once well-oiled imagination-juice. I need to fix that.

So, I'm starting this blog.

I don't really care if anyone reads it or not. More importantly, I'm writing it. And with each keystroke, I'm becoming more and more used to the process of writing that I've been so adamantly procrastinating. I'm not sure why I avoid it; I love it. I love the way words work and sound in my head as I string them together. I guess there's just something about writing a story that I can't get the hang of. I lose my focus. My drive. I get sick of it and would much rather just quit or go play video games.

But I can't let that happen.

I have to keep at it, make it part of my lifestyle and everyday habits. I need to get used to doing it every day, like an exercise.

The story I'm working on right now is about a boy who was born without a shadow. It's a horror story that I hope to make into a novel and it's based on an earlier shortstory that I wrote for a fiction writing workshop last winter at University.

I really like the story and I think it has a lot of potential. I just keep losing focus and then my motivation to continue is absolutely gone. It's awful. But maybe that's normal. However, JJ's story won't tell itself and my goal is to finish it as a rough draft in its entirety before Christmas. Good luck to me. I think, though, that if I can regulate my time of writing, say from 3-6pm, that maybe it'll help keep me focused? Learn some will power and whatnot.

Oh well, more to come later, assuming I can keep up with this as well.