I'm at the end of this cold. (One hopes, truly!)
The end is always the worst for me. It's when the body says:
"Finally, we've got you cornered you little mucousites! Now come out with your hands up and MARCH! MARCH! That's right... keep going - out the nose, out of the lungs, it doesn't matter - Just MARCH! Forward Ho!"
And the defeated enemy creeps or slithers forth to leave the hostile territory.
Which, of course, since I am the hostile territory, I must endure the tireless march, and even Nyquil - the godsend that it is, even if it tastes icky - doesn't seem to be able to speed up the process.
Although, I'm sure that by now the march is almost finished - I feel as though it is the start of "The Flight of the Bumblebees". (Ha - I bet you don't know what that is... neener neener!)
Ok so on to other topics. *cough*
As I am typing this I am thinking about how good a cup of coffee... A mocha or something sounds... Or a cup of Earl Grey.
It sounds almost as good as a good book, curled up on the couch, with the window wide open.
I'm watching the snow fall outside as I type.
Yeah... I'm one of those people who are lucky that they don't have to look when they type. It only sucks if you happen to glance back and realize your fingers for the last forty paragraphs were poised in the wrong position. And then you have to read everything to see if it makes any sense - and try to decipher it... because you can't make the muse always repeat itself - at least I can't.
The first time I write something - it's almost magical. If I try and repeat it - then - it almost sounds like cardboard cake with frosting on it. Yeah - it looks good. But it kind of lacks that real spirit. That "in-tune" ness. That life that it had.
I've tried it a few times. The only time it works is if I'm re-working a piece.
Or --- and here's the total exception... IF I've had so much coffee that I can't think straight... Then I can rework the piece and it'll sound ok.
For some reason - when I let go - when I really let go... that's when I write my best. When the feelings flow and the characters come alive.
Once - my friend came over and was just sitting there watching me - stare off into space and type - and she said I'm like this weirdo-channeler... You know the kind I'm talking about... Those psychics who channel other dead people and write for them.
I'm like - oh boy... great - I'm a seance writer. LMAO!
But what's even funnier - when she said that - it also kind of intrigued me and gave me a storyline for a book.
Strange - how things can prompt you to write certain types of stories.
Ok - so - I'm signing off for the day - please spray the place with some Lysol so the germs don't follow you home.