Tuesday, February 14, 2012
I Will Post Today Or Die Trying
Some days I hate that guy.
Usually, though, Block's trying to tell me something. Sometimes he's saying 'you need to eat, Brosef, because you forgot that part of being a writer. The part where if you don't eat, you are hungry.'
Sometimes he's saying 'there's no way you can keep telling this story with a premise like that. Work on that, fool.' And sometimes he's saying 'if you don't do something that involves other, real, in-person people, you will go insane.'
So sometimes I listen to Block and eat. Or change the beginning. Or go do something that involves real people in a non-work setting.
But today... today he's being especially dense, and he won't reason with me. Therefore, I decided that I'd post about him, and embarrass him. (Hi, Block!) He hates it when I do stuff like this. :) I think he deserves it, though, and you would too if you knew the kind of crap I've been putting up with lately.
Despite the fact that Block is quite real and, of late, a continual presence in my life, there is really only one person who decides whether I write or not.
:) It's not my muse. In case you were wondering. SHE is COMPLETELY unreliable. The only times she seems to want to talk to me are (a) when I'm about to go to sleep or (b) about to go to work. And if it's B, then usually I'm like, honey, look, I can't talk right now, I'm going to be late, we'll talk when I get back, and she gets all pouty and flounces off in a huff.
Or if I'm trying to sleep, she'll slip into my room, tip-toe to my side, crouch by my bed, and whisper at me, increasing in volume like a kid on a campout.
Musie: "Hey. Psst. Are you awake? Hey, Are you awake? Hey, are you awake? HEY, PSST, ARE YOU AWAKE?"
Me (groggy as heck): "Whu..?"
Musie: (beaming) "Are you awake?"
Me (growling) "I am now."
Then she'll whisper things into my ear and I'll try to write them down as fast as I can, but inevitably I'll have something I have to get sleep for the next day, like, you know, LIFE, and I'll have to wrap my pillow around my head and beg her, please, Musie, sweetheart, talk to me in the morning, because you've already been talking to me since 1:22 AM and I have to have my brain tomorrow or I will probably lose my job.
Inevitably, she'll be gone when I can finally get in front of the keyboard, when I want to ask her for clarifications on the things she's told me. Like right now. I've been staring at yards upon yards of blank OpenOffice document for what feels like eternity, and Musie is nowhere to be seen.
Honestly. The least she could do is leave me a note.
I start to worry about her sometimes. I picture Musie, poor, bewildered, freckle-faced Musie, hopelessly lost somewhere out there in a torrential downpour and it makes... me... cringe. I KNOW she doesn't have a good sense of direction and she ALWAYS forgets to take her cellphone.
She's her own boss though. That's for sure. Can't tell her what to do. So I just worry for her.
I love her, and I think she loves me, in her own way, but we're pretty dysfunctional. If you, my dear readers, know any good Muse and Writer counselors... we're interested in making it work.
For right now, however, I can't rely on her much. Just gotta be grateful when she comes by. Even if it is in the middle of the night. Thank goodness for digital recorders.
Note: Um, the rose actually has nothing to do with this post. It's for all of my readers, unless you're a dude. If you're a dude, then you pretty much have to pass it on to somebody else who is not a dude. :) Sars. That's the breaks.
Happy Valentine's Day!