nothing to see here..move along, please...

today, i find myself with a feeling that i appear to have had for most of my life.  desperate to write something, but with no idea of what to write. 

oh, the joys of blogging! 

to be able to write about nothing much if i so wish, just to assuage the desperate need to write!  at this point, i refer you to the note under the blog's title - please feel free to wander off and watch paint dry - i won't hold it against you - how do you think i feel?  i have to live in here.

when i was a kid and overtaken by this urge, i would get a picture book of fairy tales i had, and copy out the tales until the need to use paper and pen or pencil to make words was quietened for now. 
actually, now my mind is wandering off the path and wondering if i am cursed.  this thought tends to occur for many and varied reasons in my day-to-day life, but in this particular instance....a (fledgeling) writer, wants to write, in fact needs to write, but completely devoid of inspiration or the kind of mind that can pull together random elements and put them togethter in unusual and unexpected ways, and use it to tell a story to amaze/amuse/pull forth emotions/whatever.  also - a writer with nothing much to say about anything, if i'm honest. 

or maybe i'm just an inveterate chatterbox with a stationary fetish?...

hmmm....

well, anyway, like i said - less even than usual to say, but when did that ever stop me?...  the first stage of editing the WIP is finished.  i've fixed the spelling, the wonky sentences, and argued constantly with the spelling and grammar checker over whether or not a sentence is too wordy, or should/should not end on a preposition.

...by the way - WTF is a preposition anyway?!...

and hubby has read it.  this is a first, him not being someone who generally reads for pleasure.  and he says he enjoyed it, which, of course, pleases me immensely. :o)  he was also kind enough to point out one or two plot holes and inconsistencies.  these, i will file away for later.  having lived with the blasted thing for the last 5 months, i'm far too close to it and, frankly, heartily sick of the bloody thing.  it's a disappointment to me, especially after the first one.  however, i already have another couple of ideas settling into the silt for next november, so maybe i'll just leave them there, and see what occurs.  or maybe they'll make themselves into short stories between now and then. 

because i thought i might have a go at short stories next.

i know, i know - short stories are hard.  really hard.  and that's good.  i want a different challenge, and i understand short stories can be wonderful learning experiences  for an author a writer (feels weird and presumptious to refer to myself as an author - i'm just someone who wants to write).  personally, after this last one, i hope i can give myself a few lessons in cutting out the waffle.  it also means i'm gonna have to tune my brain in to the odd details of the world - the things that pique my interest.  a word, a phrase, a situation, an incongruous juxtaposition of ideas.  i'm going to have to have my writer head on most, if not all of the time.  it will be interesting to see if i can keep that little entity that sits at the back of my brain (on a three-legged stool with a pen poised over a reporter's notebook) alert, and watching.  i wonder what she'll come up with?  i also wonder if she'll notice things that i don't, and poke me as i'm writing?

gods, i hope so...

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