Flat nose syndrome.

I’ve had the rug pulled out from under me on this internet thing, since the fine folks at Comcast decided to change their minds at the last second. And with a lousy past few days, I’ve had no inclination to write, hence my absence. But so help me, I will work up that posting streak again, and I will make it good. And you thought you were safe. Not even close. (Apply evil laughter here.)

Anyway, since I’ve had a lot of time on my hands all of the sudden, the question as become how exactly to fill it. A weekend can stretch and melt together into a beast that’s a disturbing one indeed if you’re used to clicking around on the internet as a means to fill the hours. So I thought, “Hey, perfect! Ample time to write, I might actually get something done! Even if it’s a little bit!”.

Then some time passed, and I found some other things to do instead. And some other things. And then I was making muffins, even though I hate baking. Then I said to myself, “No. Stop that. Stop that right now. You sit down and you make pages, young lady. Enough of this muffin foolishness. There Will Be Non-Existant!Ink.”

So I did. You know, like with that script thing I’ve been mentioning off and on. And then I had a vauge idea for an off kilter short story that I could throw up on Libboo. So there was that too. And maybe a few more thoughts and inclinations that might’ve lead to something, maybe, even if it was only a little something.

I sat down, plopped my hulking heavy godforsaken laptop into my lap, and opened up Celtx to start. Even if it was just three or four pages on the script, I’d be satisfied. In fact, I’d be ecstatic.

But there was nothing. Not. A. Thing.

Now, it’s been said that if it doesn’t come, it doesn’t come. You can’t force the words out, anything that comes from trying will likely have no heart behind it. And since I’m a big fan of the organic experience (whatever that means), and just letting it flow, I’m not okay with that. Of course, we’re not supposed to be afraid of writing badly. But there’s writing badly, and then there’s writing mechanically. And it’s a thin line, I’ve found. You better believe it.

So we come to a horrible side effect of ‘if it doesn’t come, it doesn’t come’; bashing your face against the wall until it does. Staring at that blank screen for hours on end, wishing, hoping, and sobbing like an eight year old girl who’s lost her ice cream cone when that wish isn’t granted.

It’s borderline traumatic. Some writers set their own rituals in order to ‘get into the mood’, and set goals for themselves once they’re there. If there’s one for me, I haven’t found it yet. But considering I’d really love to have something come from this void the internet usually fills, I just might start trying something. My nose is starting to feel like a smooshed penny, and I have to say, I don’t appreciate it.

Ten minutes to class, time to start closing up shop. I have to say I’m glad, because though the hour and a half’s been good to get, I’m sitting on a barstool right now in the middle of the library to be on this computer, and my back is swearing a bloody revenge. Hopefully the next time I pop on here, I’ll have made some progress.

If not, I’ll just amuse myself with this. It’s still something.

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~ by Sara on November 14, 2011.

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