It’s 8 o’clock at night and I’m writing. Again. I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember, whether novels that no one ever saw or blogs that I wrote off and on. More off than on, sadly.
Last week I had the idea for this blog site. I was tired of waiting for my old one to get fixed and wanted to write. I mean, really wanted to write.
“No matter how slow you go, you’re still lapping everyone on the couch” – Anonymous
Looking around my room, you wouldn’t see anything approaching organization. Oh, books are on bookshelves. But there’s a basket of clean laundry waiting to be folded, piles of blankets on my unmade bed, a few glasses on my desk. Pads of paper scattered everywhere. Spiral notebooks lying open on the desk. Random pens hiding everywhere, waiting to be found at a random moment.
Just got home from my improv writing night. I was so nervous the first time I attended, but now it’s one of the highlights of my month. Three hours of drinking wine and writing and talking and sharing about techniques and books and plots and all these things that we writers are passionate about.
If you’re not familiar with improv writing, it’s simple. You take a writing prompt. Take some amount of time, like ten minutes. Write a short story.
No goal. No outline. No need to worry about turning it into anything. Just having fun. Working on skills.
I have this great friend. Oh, we get in fights. Some of the most horrible fights you can ever imagine. We get completely pissed at each other, spend two or three days fighting and not talking, and then eventually at about the end of the third day we go “Can we still be friends?” If the answer is ever no, I know what it will be. We’ll just go our separate ways and never speak again. But we’ve always answered yes. Which is great in itself. Yet there’s another great part to it.
I am not a morning person. Never have been. Probably never will be totally successful at transforming into one. Oh, I can make myself a morning person. I can function. Although my brain is usually on autopilot until about 10. And it really doesn’t matter how much caffeine you feed me. I’ve managed to fall asleep standing up before because my brain just refused to accept the fact that it was 5 in the morning and I was up for some god forsaken reason.