I’m currently on my second day and my seventh or eighth attempt at trying to get this entry done.
I honestly can’t remember the last time I had such a difficult time writing anything. For that, I am angry. I’m trying to dig myself out of that feeling by repeating a Jeremy Clarkson voice over of, “There will be anger and raaage,” in my head. It’s working a little.
My god, I’d forgotten what it was like to lay down to sleep and be kept awake by all the words I wasn’t able to get out during the day. I’d forgotten how unbearable it was. I’d forgotten how much I hated it – that feeling of wanting to catch the tip of a word and pull them all out through my ear, just so I could get some peace from them.
Damn these pictures of Jeremy Clarkson in place of the previous pictures of kittens taking up space on my screen. Maybe a distraction will do me some good.
I think the only way to get this out is to ignore the elephant standing in my room. I mentioned before that I am a private person; I will add to that now and say that I am an extremely closed-off person. I can’t explain how difficult it is to write about myself instead of characters. Rather than dwell on that fact – explaining it, describing the extent of it, and making it all so much worse…that’s all I’ll say about it. I am closed off. To everyone. This – blogging, sharing myself – is harder for me than I care to say.
With that in mind, I will proceed forward, walking around the elephant. (I love elephants by the way – real ones, not the sort mentioned previously).
Yesterday was a strange day for me. I was in an extremely weird/unpleasant headspace. Not for any one reason in particular, but for a vast array of them – most of which I have no desire whatsoever to share. Those that I didn’t want to share were like little baby elephants standing around the big one while I tried to write this. Now, keeping in mind that I love elephants, is it any surprise that I spent my fair share of time yesterday staring at them? Analyzing them, contemplating over their unexpected presence in my room?
Now, not everything about yesterday was bad. In fact, nothing about yesterday was bad, past my inability to write. I did a lot of thinking. I did some planning. I made a mental check list of things that needed doing. I’ve done a few of those things today as planned. I still have a lot more. One of those being the dire need of writing a new, more suitable synopsis/summary of my book for query-writing purposes. It’s probably ignorant of me, but I write a different one (query) every time. Some people might think that it’s silly, but the way my head justifies it is, “You wouldn’t write the exact same letter, word for word, to two of your best friends. Would you?” Maybe it really is ignorant of me to keep trying to think of these agents as people when they all seem like some giant mass of unreachable entities. Maybe I should sit down, write a generic letter that could be sent to anyone, and just send them off. They say it’s frowned upon to send queries to more than one at a time, but I’m going to spend the next two years of my life waiting and sending, waiting and sending.
I want to be writing more books. I can’t do that while my head is still stuck on worries of this series.
I don’t know. Either way, I need to write a better synopsis/summary. I need to get over the fact that I have surprises I don’t want ruined in those books. Like…fifty of them. Get over it.
I need to read a book and write a review.
I need to clean the windows.
I need to finish unpacking.
I need to do about a hundred things similar to the last two that aren’t worth mentioning.
So yes, yesterday was full of a giant list of things that needed doing and a brain that fought against the doing the entire time. There were good things about it.
Husband will be starting his new college stuff next month. He’ll finally be going to school for something that he has genuine interest in. He’ll finally be following his dream. I’m glad I pushed him to do it. He seems so happy and excited. I think, maybe, that he might understand how I feel soon. Ah, the stresses and joys of dream following.
Roommate brought home a newspaper article for me. It sounds ridiculous, but I almost teared up at the thoughtfulness of it. It brought a little breath of relief to the end of my day, and it was most welcome.
One important thing that needed saying follows.
I have this friend, right?
You know those people that you always look up to? The ones that are so good that they make you ashamed of yourself? The ones that make you stop for a second and wonder, “What would so-and-so do here?” Yeah, one of those friends. She’s always been like that, at least since I’ve known her (middle school). I’ve always looked up to her. I’ve always wondered how she could possibly be so good. I used to have zero comprehension of how it was possible. I’ve learned a little bit growing up, but that still doesn’t change how I feel about her.
Anyway, I lost contact with her, just like nearly everyone else that I know. So, while I could not call her a ‘close’ friend, I can easily say that she has remained one of my ‘favorite’ friends. She’s one of very few people that I missed talking to, and you could ask the people that I didn’t lose contact with; I’ve said it many a time. Making a Facebook will give you an easy avenue to getting back in touch with people. I’m glad for the general frustration of the website in that respect.
The point of this being, I got back in contact with her, we exchanged a few messages here and there – the how are you doing, this is how I’m doing, sort of stuff. Now this is where the story gets weird. I posted a status update on there about this here blogging thingy and everything that followed has sort of blown my mind.
I put passion for writing back into her? I…inspired her?
My initial reaction was, “You’re kidding, right?” Then came the slow, goofy, nearly squee-ing grin. Then the, “You’re kidding, right?” Then the prickly feeling that you get in the front of your eyes. I’ve gone back and forth with it probably forty times or more over the past several days. Either way, it’s made me do some major self-evaluation. That self-evaluation played a very large role in the strange headspace yesterday.
I’ve closed myself off, hermit-like, for the past several years. My big question of myself yesterday was, “Have I really changed that much in my seclusion?”
Enough for that, though?
I didn’t think so.
I didn’t know.
I guess so.
Maybe I’m reading too much into it, you think. It’s quite possible that it would seem that way. But it’s the simple fact that I, in some way, shape, or form, had such a positive effect on someone that I’ve always looked up to. To question the feasibility of such a thing brings up so many questions of who I am as a person now. I don’t care if anyone else is asking them. I’m asking them of myself. I can’t tell you what it means to me. I can’t tell you what the thoughts it provoked mean to me. I couldn’t find the words if I tried. After all, I’m writing about myself and not a character.
It means a lot. More than I care to share. More than I could let myself share. I’ve shared enough about it, I think. I got my point across. And in my shortest entry so far, nonetheless. Hooray for me.
I couldn’t sleep last night because I wanted to say, “Thank you,” but it didn’t seem like enough to me. I couldn’t think of what to say. In the end, it’s all I really could say. All I can say. Maybe it is enough.
She writes beautifully, by the way. You can check out her blog here ( http://bnbrown10.wordpress.com/ )…She makes me feel like I need to pack it up and go home, lol.
Now that I’ve finally said what I needed to say, and got out what I needed to get out, I can take a breath and relax. Maybe those elephants will leave me alone for a little while so that I can sit down and enjoy a few things.
How haaad can it beee?