Forgive me if I prattle on ad nauseum about my second wannabe novel. I realize it’s a tad cruel to write so extensively about writing the first one only to deny nearly everyone the right to read it. I can’t though, in good conscience, allow anyone to waste their time reading something I consider less than what I would consider the best I have to offer. It’ll have to languish until I work up the motivation to re-write it using all the cool new tricks I learned in my writing class.
The second novel, though…If there’s an apple of my eye right now, that there’s it. My writing group spent some time critiquing it this weekend and their insights and suggestions literally set my brain alight. They asked the perfect questions, the kind that ignites ideas as opposed to quashing them, and gave me the encouragement I needed to feel confident about pressing on.
The problem now is that I’m hideously distracted. I can see the whole story laid before me, much like this:
It’s all fun and games until you realize that you’ve ignored everything a customer was saying on the phone because you were plotting out the perfect moment-of-truth conversation between two made-up people. This is one of those times when I wish I were a full-time writer, sitting at home in my pajamas crafting the stories I’d like to tell out of the fabric of my ideas.
Lucky for me, Wes had agreed to shoulder part of the burden of my weekend chores, thereby liberating a beautiful two-hour chunk of time on Saturdays that I can devote exlusively to writing. We work together to clean the house on Friday (this is why Friday blog posts have pretty much disappeared) so that when Saturday rolls around all I have to worry about is laundry and grocery shopping. Bliss! Truly a more supportive and wonderful (and handsome!) husband has never existed.
The curious side effect of this new arrangement is that my weeks seem to be leading up to Saturday now. I cache the ideas I take away from my writer’s group, and they grow and build to the extent that by the time Saturday rolls around my ideas feel corporeal. Like they would exist even if I didn’t bother to write them down. It’s an exhilarating feeling.
In addition to my writing group, I had the pleasure of watching Wanted with my husband. As with Watchmen, it’s a fun movie if you pay no attention to the philosophical problems and holes it contains in its plot. I thought it was a fun Friday movie, but Wes found it difficult to move beyond the whiny male lead character. I think Wes’ problem with that guy partially stemmed from the fact that the guy was a wuss whose name was Wesley. It’s never good when the movie’s resident girly-man shares your name.
I encounter a similar problem with TV characters who share my name. I can think of no characters named Erika/Erica/Erykah/Aarikaaaaah who are pleasant to watch, so my ire always doubles when I know someone on a show shares my name. Get your own name, ye harpies!
Completely unrelated to this is the fact that I just booked tickets to go visit my Dad in June. Squee! I haven’t seen my Dad or my brother in a year so I’m just a little teensy bit excited ohmygoshisitJuneyet?!?!?! Alas, on this hyper yet happy note I’m going to have to bid you adieu with nary a witty closing line or thoughtfully appropriate farewell. All I have is my excitement. And tendency to switch topics at will. I’ll just have to leave with you the hope that tomorrow’s post will actually make sense.