In the Life of a Writer
I started a post tonight about how I wasn't writing. How ideas weren't flowing and I was stressing and moaning and just being out-right nasty because God Damn It, I wasn't writing my fiction. Which is the dream that keeps me going. But, alas, in my moment of despair--and a moment of mommyhood, the baby wanted to nurse. I sat with her happily cuddling in my arms, and alas and idea spun into something a bit more than a spark.
Is it a full fledged idea yet? Not quite, but it is enough to at least jot down a few notes and hope that I have a few moment tomorrow to do a few brainstorming chart thingies (which are just a bunch of circles and notes and lines and more circles and scribbles and dialogue and character ideas) and see if this one is going to work. Because it has to. I'm getting to bored with my own woes. I need some characters to keep my busy.
Is it a full fledged idea yet? Not quite, but it is enough to at least jot down a few notes and hope that I have a few moment tomorrow to do a few brainstorming chart thingies (which are just a bunch of circles and notes and lines and more circles and scribbles and dialogue and character ideas) and see if this one is going to work. Because it has to. I'm getting to bored with my own woes. I need some characters to keep my busy.
Labels: me, writing, writing life
