At least I find it harder to write.
Why is that?
I have recently written a short auto-biographical piece, and in the process discovered just how much I prefer to write about imaginary characters. So I started wondering what the difference could be. I don’t think it’s as simple as ‘imaginary characters do what you tell them too.’ A made-up character has to be as developed as a real one. They need to make just as much sense. Both types have their own logic and need to stick to it. I don’t think imaginary characters are as lose and unrestrictive to write as they might sound.
I’ve been pondering this for the past few days. I think what’s holding me back is honesty.
Real characters (in this case me and a few people very close to me) need to be portrayed honestly. When I write about the characters in my head I only need to be honest with myself. Writing about the people in my life means I have a responsibility to them as well. Retelling an event the way I remember it might not automatically mean telling it the way it really was. But I owe it to the people who share this tale with me to try. And that’s hard. And maybe it also means facing up to my priorities and the way I have interacted with the people in my life.
It’s all hard.
Think I’m starting to understand why I spend so much time with the people in my head.
(I’m not as crazy as that sounds! Promise!)
I have been out of sorts for the past week. Not quite under the weather, but worse than just okay. Definitely out of sorts.
Out of sortsiness manifests itself as an inability to sleep during the usual sleeping hours. It also tends to produce trouble typing, trouble talking, and real difficulty concentrating on anything.
I hope a diet of chocolate, salt and vinegar chips, white wine and Mel Brooks movies will aid in my recuperation.
And everyone’s in on it. The weather. My pets! Everyone!
Oh, wanna know what they’re conspiring to do? To stop me getting any real, productive work done.
No really. It’s true. Hear me out.
We had a huge thunderstorm come through last night, around midnight. Lots of bright lightning, lots of loud thunder. Right on top of us at one stage. I couldn’t stay asleep through that. So I was wide awake, wondering if my 7am personal training appointment was likely to be cancelled, considering it’s in a park and if the park was anything like our backyard it was going to be a pond by morning (it was, by the way, and I enjoyed the extra sleep muchly).
Then, in the middle of the rain and the thunder, the dog starts to cry. Even more wide awake, I realise the rain is probably coming in. And the dog is crying. Yes he’s a sook, and I’m a sucker. So husband and I get up, close doors and windows (slip on the water that has come in) and let the boy inside. Wet dog climbs all over us, is happy to be dried off and given a small bed of old towels in a downstairs bathroom. We go upstairs again, back to bed. He’s quiet.
I almost fall asleep. Then the lightning starts up again and the thunder. But he’s not crying. And what is that strange noise I hear? Oh, probably nothing. At least he’s not crying. It sounds like… panting? And as I realise the dog has opened the bathroom door and snuck upstairs he launches his damp, wet-dog smelling self into the bed with us.
That was the end of sleep for me. By the time we got him calmed down and dried some more, the thunder had passed and he didn’t seem to mind being sent back to his kennel outside. It took me considerably longer to get to sleep again. So now I have a headache. And I’m yawning.
And writing, you know, I don’t think it’s going to happen. Not tonight.
Oh, and I said pets, didn’t I. Yes, well the cat is conspiring against me to. No reason, just this expression:
Look at how long it’s been since I posted anything! That’s terrible *tisk tisk*
It’s not like nothing’s been going on. Debris has been to the first round of lovely, patient, generous beta readers. I’m studiously ignoring their feedback until I finish a few things first. I know that book will suck me back in the moment I look at the first comment in Word. And the break from it is a good thing. But soon, my precious. Soon.
A couple of exciting news items too, but I will sit on those until I know for certain.
So really, things happening but not a lot to actually talk about. If I was more organised I’d have kitty pictures to fill the gap…
Revision… finished.
Neck… seized up.
Shoulder… in knots.
Physio… mean bastard.
Must stop eyeing new projects. Take… week off.
Urrggh