Tissues and Sniffles but Still Writing

It has been a bear of a week.  Even now as I write, it feels like an ice pick is drilling through my right temple deep into my eye socket and scraping against my brain, a process that repeats itself for hours despite the ungodly amounts of ibuprofen coursing through my system.  I’m sure my liver is clicking its tongue in disapproval.

It’s been a painful, sick ten days for both me and Maya (though she seems to rollick through her days in spite of the globs of snot drooping from her nose), but I continue to work on my project.  S-l-o-w-l-y, yet I’m still moving forward.  I’ve discovered that it’s difficult to just pen an outline.  As scenes pop into my head, I feel compelled to flesh them out onto paper.  I’m afraid I’ll forget them if I don’t.  I unearth details about my quirky characters- details that create delightful twists in the plot.  My vision of the characters has also altered.  I’m sure it will continue to change as the screenplay progresses and throughout rewrites.  It’s a juicy jolt of inspiration to keep me trucking along.

I’m a tad askew from my goal of the week, but I don’t care.  I’m still writing, which is more than I would have done a year ago or even six months ago.  I would have given up.  Not pushed through.  I am finally taking a couple of days off this week for myself.  Leave Maya with the sitter for the day and go about my business.  To have a cup of coffee in quiet.  To go to the bathroom without an audience.  To write.  And to appreciate the noise Maya creates because I’m sure half-way into day one the silence will drive me bats.  I’ve not yet had a day (or night) to myself and Maya’s nearly 15 months old, so I think I’m way overdue for some alone time.  Hopefully I’ll be able to soar through my writing and not be distracted by all the “nothingness” to do.

Anyway, one of these days (maybe this week!) I’ll write about how I finished the outline.  Then I’ll write about how I’ve completed the entire first act.  Second act.  Resolution.  I’ll breathe a sigh of relief and crack open my bottle of champagne I had saved for NYE, but never did share with anyone.  I will savor the moment and celebrate its completion.  Within a few months the rewrite will begin and I’ll be complaining about it, I’m sure.  It’s a process, but I’m determined to push through to the end.  

Until then, I have a tissue in hand for my sniffles (and Maya’s snotfest) and ibuprofen in the other. 



2 thoughts on “Tissues and Sniffles but Still Writing

  1. I think Leon Trotsky actually died from an ice pick to the head so I guess you know what it feels like to be a Russian revolutionary…what a bad joke… Anyways, they say a writer’s characters are much like their children and I’d have to agree. You can try to shape their futures but sometimes they just do what they want.


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