willowmeg: Round drawing of flowers, J.F. Ingalls embroidery catalogue, 1886. (blooms)
Having trouble writing? Why not try...writing! About writing!

Currently I'm at a bit of a block in my project. The story overall has surpassed 47,000 words, but I can't seem to properly move forward with ending chapter 13. What is it with 13? It's given me fits at every turn. Previous chapters have come out in 10 days, 2 weeks, 3 at most...I'm nearing 5 weeks, now, on this one. It seems that I'm just uncomfortable with writing a situation in which my 2 main characters don't communicate like they should. The relationship I've built between them is based on a deep trust, which isn't entirely firm yet (they both have misgivings about opening up to the other, and value secrecy far too highly) - but part of me wants to just smack them down, here, and say "you idiots, just tell each other what's happening!" and of course this would completely negate the conflict I need to set up for the plot. YES I KNOW that miscommunication or lack of communication is NOT an ideal plot point. But when the "bad guy" is perpetrating a plot based on psychological manipulation, and creating an emotional divide between the "home team" in order to destroy them from within...well, without the miscommunication, where would that plot even go? sigh.

Anyway, last night I had a bolt of inspiration and wrote parts of THREE different scenes for chapter 14 - the idea being that if I just write that stuff, then filling in the missing bit before it should become easier. And in one afternoon/evening, I managed over 1300 words there. So I was feeling a good momentum...but sleeping has apparently reset that to zero. :P

----------

About things that are NOT (directly) writing... A few days ago I sent off a package to England, containing a set of three Dark Ripples paperbacks (in a brand-spanking-new 6x9" formatting) and a hand-painted watercolor card. I hadn't painted in over a year - usually I try to break out the paints once springtime brings good sun in the afternoons, but this year that just didn't happen for some reason.

Watercolor greeting card, 4x6"

I really, really like how that painting turned out. Every year, I think "oh god, it's been so long since I've done this, I'll have to re-learn everything, it's going to look horrible" - and every year I surprise myself. This one was no exception. It makes me want to blow a few more afternoons in the near future on painting...but I really need to start focusing more of my time on crochet. I promised myself I would make an afghan for my brother H (since I made one for A a couple years ago), and bring it on my visit in October. And I'm only 6 rows in at the moment, so I need to get cracking. I actually just ordered 7 colors of yarn yesterday, in hopes that 4 or 5 of them would work in the project - it's difficult, because I'm trying to match solid colors to the weird muted rainbow tones in the variegated yarn I'm already using. It'll be an awesome effect, if I can manage it. But it'll likely drive me crazy. (What was I thinking, starting a pattern that breaks and changes yarn at the end of every row!!)

I also need to bite the bullet and order the faker-quilt fabric I've been considering for A+A's baby. Basically it's 1 yard of fabric that the company prints with 48 patterns according to my layout - then I just have to add batting and backing and sew in the quilting lines. Quilting for idiots who can't be bothered with piecing. :) The sewing machine still inspires fear in my heart, but I CAN do it and I SHOULD do it - Mom saw the pattern I was laying out and she's in love with it. (Ahh, that baby is due in about a month!) I'm also considering blowing an extra $29 on a yard of chiffon printed with 4 strips of pattern - to be sewn into 2 sheer infinity scarves. Supposedly this is a very easy and fulfilling project, and would create a nice thing for me and a nice gift for someone else, too.

I notice I'm becoming more and more infatuated with online ordering...recently I picked up a nifty swatch gauge (in hopes that having a tool will make me more willing to actually swatch) and an adorable miniature drop spindle. Then I had to order $30 in interesting fibers, to use with the spindle. Because SURELY all of that was necessary. I also recently made an impulse purchase for G's birthday...I gifted it to him early, but at least I know he loves it. (Heavy glass lens on a chunky silver chain, looks black when worn, held to the light it shows the rainbow frequency pattern of the full solar spectrum.)

...I can't think of any other topics to cover right now, so hopefully I've emptied my head out enough to put my mind back on the task at hand. WRITE DAMN YOU.
willowmeg: Amber skull in front of round, moonlike drawing of flowers, in front of a purple starry sky. (Default)
The two weeks before any major trip are, inevitably, when I analyze every permutation of possible activities/expectations/conditions and create a highly detailed list. I do try not to overthink things too much, these days - there were a few trips in years past where I went embarrassingly overboard (think hand-laminated flip-card driving maps, in the days before prevalent phone GPS) - though this purposeful under-thinking mostly expresses itself in the small, one-weekend trips to my in-laws being dealt with entirely on a last minute basis. “Ugh, we’re leaving in an hour, I guess I should pack some clothes or some bullshit uggggghhhh.”

Anyway, so every time a Big Trip is coming up, I try not to over-think. Then I give in to over-thinking, and just focus on not over-packing - it takes a deceptive amount of critical thought, after all, to come up with 7 good outfits using only 3 pairs of pants* - and once I hash out the fashion choices, I set myself to anticipating the smaller necessities: all that random stuff I can’t seem to go anywhere without, and whatever side stuff I’ve got my heart set on bringing to amuse myself. For some ungodly reason, this always always always involves the purchase of a few minor, often admittedly unnecessary gadgets or totes or miscellaneous whatsits. (If it keeps the travel gods happy and stops me being unreasonably frustrated with myself for not having something, I’m all for it. Besides, who doesn’t want a snazzy new carry-on tote? kyooot.)

Last year my Vacation Bring was watercolors - it did make for a couple pleasant afternoons (and a nice gift for my Mom) during the trip I took without my husband, but I’ve now learned my lesson and will never fly with liquid paints again. UGH. The year before, it was crochet projects. The year before that, I probably had an embroidery bag with me. Before that, temari (praying any checked baggage investigators wouldn’t question the 4 inch long darning needles in my kit).

This year, I’m going minimal - unless I change my mind at the last minute (and, granted, I have 2 weeks left to do so) I’m not bringing anything craft-related. SHOCK! HORROR! HOWEVER WILL I LIVE!** ...I’m compensating by focusing on tech - charger 1. Charger 2. Car charger. Tablet. Music player. Aux cable. Headphones. Earbuds. Headphone splitter. Bluetooth speaker. Camera. Camera charger. Magnetic mini tripod. (As of today, four of the above are checked off the list of this year’s pre-trip whatsits. Can I stop buying stuff now?)

17 days left.

* not because I don’t own more pants, natch. Because I want to pack light, and my Mom doesn’t care if I run a little load in her washer mid-week. ;)

** The plan is that I’ll be writing. With music. In every spare moment. That’s the plan. Fingers crossed, people.
willowmeg: Amber skull in front of round, moonlike drawing of flowers, in front of a purple starry sky. (Default)
Well, huh.

I put the Deep Waters cover into that post, and then tried putting that same image into Ao3, and *that* worked. But switching back to the other image (that went with the story I was editing) didn't.

Perhaps no image can be shared/linked outside of Dreamwidth unless I have first embedded that image into my journal itself? (even though having done so makes no change to the content of the embed link?)

Well, if that's the case, fine. Here are all the other covers, and the PU ch. 9 artwork.

Cover image for Dark Ripples #1: The Breathless

Cover image for Dark Ripples #2: Saving Graces

Cover image for Dark Ripples #3: Pulled Under

Artwork pairing with Chapter 9 of Pulled Under (Dark Ripples #3)

So there!
willowmeg: Amber skull in front of round, moonlike drawing of flowers, in front of a purple starry sky. (Default)
Well, okay; I've figured out how to upload images to this journal - I've properly tweaked all their titles and such - I've made sure they were all set to public access - I've found the code to remotely embed the images, and it looks basically just the same as the code to embed images I've saved to my LJ "scrapbook"...
So why the hecking crap isn't the embed working? The LJ ones work fine. I want to change these links in my Ao3 documents, so that I can get rid of my now-redundant LJ. But apparently I can't?

Let's see if an image embed works within here...

Cover image for Dark Ripples #4: Deep Waters

Did that work? Do these only work within the site itself? If so, that doesn't make much sense; I see nothing in the html that should restrict that...
willowmeg: Amber skull in front of round, moonlike drawing of flowers, in front of a purple starry sky. (Default)
Well, here I am - one of the hundreds upon hundreds who took one look at the new-and-disimproved Russian terms of service on LJ, went "eugh!" and immediately packed their bags. I brought all my old stuff over...less for the benefit of anyone else seeing it, than for my own future nostalgia; I figure someday, I'll go back and read all the ridiculous blather I wrote over the years and be amused.

My LJ blog had long since devolved to a place I checked once a week, on the offhand chance that my friend J had posted something for me to read. I hadn't even realized, until I did this import, that I haven't written an actual post since 2015. And honestly, since most of my social life is on Tumblr I doubt I'll ever have an audience for any new ramblings I might write here. But that's fine. The whole point of this journal blog wasn't to appeal to some outside audience, was it? If it ever was, it probably shouldn't have been.

(So, in case you HAVE come here for current journalling, uh, say hi I guess? and I'll try to make at least some effort to be interesting in future, if I know you exist. But until that time, prepare for random, overpersonal babble.)

Things that have happened lately...

* My aunt (Dad's only sister, 14 years younger than him) died unexpectedly a few weeks ago. "Natural Causes" = nobody has any idea why. It's been difficult for my parents - Dad has had to take 2 trips up to Maine to help deal with her things, and attempt to wrangle her hopeless, demented wreck of an alcoholic husband. Everyone had always presumed that Rich would die first, since he's got major health problems; as morbid as it is, we're all sort of convinced that Rich won't actually last all that long on his own. I'm not feeling too terrible about the idea, he's a really awful person. But...yeah. it just kinda sucks in general.

* My best friend is about to get married. 6 weeks! My husband and I will be the only ones in attendance besides the 2 immediate families. I feel very honored. Right now I'm trying to find a dress to wear, and lamenting the fact that I'm horribly overweight at the moment - my mom bought me a dress, but it turned out awful (what do you expect from mail-order) and so I have to return it. Stress. I think I found a skirt and pretty top that could work, so we'll see.

* We're going to Florida to see my family for a week, just a few days before C's wedding. In fact we'll fly back home & arrive at almost midnight on Sunday night, (I'll take a day off on Monday because only an idiot wouldn't do that after getting home at 1 AM), I'll work three days and then we'll drive down to the Smoky Mountains on Friday morning. A couple nights in a private cabin, complete with full kitchen and hot tub, and a ceremony overlooking the valley - should be nice. I'm a little worried about bugs, and the fact that all of the cabins are 15+ minutes apart from each other, but I'm sure it'll all work out.

* My baby brother is going to be a dad!!! He sent me the first sonogram the other day, eeeeee. I'm very happy for him - of everyone in my family (and, heck, in my husband's family), he and his wife are the most perfectly suited to be parents. Seriously, that kid is gonna have it made! It's why we had to schedule the trip when we did - I wanted to be sure and have an opportunity to see my sister-in-law while she's pregnant, and then we'll go down again in early October when my niece or nephew is about a month+ old. Should be good. (I should probably note that my middle brother H is also a great guy, and is basically already a parent, since he lives with his girlfriend and her two young children - he's better at it than I would have expected, but then he's always been the caretaker type. However, their living situation is not fantastic, and their relationship is mmmm shall we say not the healthiest? so I stand by my vote for A/A as the most suited.)

* It wouldn't be a journal update without at least a little self-involved prattling about my writing, would it? Current status: on a slight lull (slight = two days without writing omg!) but overall it's going well. I'm at about 26,000 words, on chapter 8 of a story that will have 23 at maximum (but may have less). It's #4 (and probably final) in the magical realism AU, and it's a bear because I'm having to write a totally different plotline for Sherlock S4. UGH. I'm still very sad that what they gave us was so horrible - I was expecting my life to be difficult, with the twists they'd probably introduce to canon, but this?? *sigh* Anyway, I'm doing the best I can. I like where I'm getting to go with the plot, now that I'm free of canon compliance...but it does make it complicated, and I miss the fun of weaving my own events into what was onscreen. Slow but steady, I suppose.

* Weird dreams this morning - one in which I realized I was in a magically-operated car with nobody in the driver's seat (my Dad was sleeping on the passenger side), and the car had at some point gotten itself turned around (hit a detour or something, but automatically kept homing in on its goal without reorienting?) so that when I looked out the windshield we were doing 60 mph in *reverse* along with the traffic on a busy highway in the middle of the night. So I was basically looking straight into the headlights of the people following us. I had to convince the car to stop as people in front of (behind) us started to create a road block to stop us; we ended up hidden in a residential neighborhood, and I had to figure out where we were so I could take over and drive (forwards!) the rest of the way. ...Then, I had another dream in which I got out of a parked car but lost my orientation and couldn't find the building I meant to go into, and when I did get inside I found I had to walk through a posh designer boutique or cocktail club (?) with no top on. WTF. Clearly there's a theme of muddle-headedness and lack of control. Which is odd, because I don't necessarily see those themes in my life right now...at least no more than usual...
willowmeg: Amber skull in front of round, moonlike drawing of flowers, in front of a purple starry sky. (Default)
Between books, at the moment. There's a third story to be told, and I'm only just beginning to get my thoughts in order for it...the vast blankness I find in my mind when I think about where my plot is starting seems a little disconcerting, seeing as how I'm supposedly picking up this story right where I left off with the last one. Technically, the break between the last story and this is a formality, more than anything; I have large chunks of the (later portions) of this last volume written already, and finding the "ending" of book #2 was just a matter of looking for a place I could temporarily halt the momentum of things. So starting #3 should be easy, right?
Nooooope.

I started a scene, today on my lunch break, that I'm hoping will give me an in to get that first chapter rolling. It's feeling like abstract art, though, so far. Part of what's holding me back must be my concern about making the initial chapter serve a similar purpose to the initial chapter of #2: a brief re-introduction of the situation and the major players, a refresher course of sorts on the mystical/supernatural talent of my main character and its workings, a mildly witty reentry to the universe. I know I can do it - I did it once already, right? :P (whine) But it's so haaaaaaaaaard. (/whine)

I refuse to be waylaid by doubt or paralyzed by my fear of completing this project. The fact that I have (so far) been entirely unable to complete my first series is entirely thanks to THIS series hijacking my mental capacity; and I know for an absolute fact that this series is better and more dramatically stable than my first, stronger in characterization, bolstered by clear connection to canon and yet not relying on retelling, emotionally realistic, and unique in concept. If I want to wallow in fear, I should think about the fact that coming back to my half-written Needles & Pins #4, after completing all of Dark Ripples, will create an insurmountable problem in terms of my progress as a writer - how will I be able to pick up where I left off, if my style has changed so much in the interim? I shudder at the thought of people reading N&P #1, now; I can see so many problems with it - but I shudder far more at the thought of trying to rewrite it. And yet, people are still reading it, and although I haven't received any commentary in quite some time, enough people gave me positive feedback that I was able to motivate myself to continue writing. It's a good thing for me that I did; N&P #2 and #3 are vast improvements, but even they show me serious issues when I reread them. (Mainly my lack of ability to kill my darlings - a skill I'm somewhat dubious of needing, really, but #3 was a behemoth and surely didn't have to be...and also my adherence to a very step-by-step method of building the facets of a plot, which in itself isn't a bad thing either - better than plot holes, surely - but I can see how much more the suspense and intrigue would have been helped by a more indirect approach.) I'm grateful every day for those people who have complimented me on my writing, and praised the depth and relatability of my original characters; the commentary on my current series is even better, overall, which is quite reassuring.

(side note - mainly people I don't know. Certain family members have been wildly enthusiastic, and many of my IRL friends are supportive, even to the extent of demanding their own paperback copies of my printed works... but even those friends have almost universally refrained from giving me any sort of commentary or feedback once they've had my work in hand. Granted, looking back at the quality of my very first work, I can understand that 3 people I had given my writing to had been unable to motivate themselves enough to read through that whole story - and even that 2 of the 3 of them appeared to lose interest right at the most climactic, suspenseful point in that story, which seemed fairly odd - but the fact that not a single person besides my parents and aunt currently seems capable of reading through a slim 175-page paperback novella, the first in the Dark Ripples series, my tightest and most intriguing work, printed in convenient lunch-break-friendly size? If I were interested in a story, even a little bit, I could read through a book that short in an hour or two at most. But none of the people who have asked to own this book seem up to actually reading it all the way through... Okay, that's when I start to wonder if I really am writing boring stuff. And then I have to check online and remind myself that I'm not invisible, after all. But anyway. I digress.)

Okay, I've digressed so far I can't remember what my point was. Um.

...I took a minor detour from the DR series, to write a short one-shot completely unrelated to any of my other work; as a gift to an online friend, it's a bit of erotica, a short fantasy piece. LOL. A first for me, but it turned out well enough that three readers begged me for a sequel, so I must have done something right? I'm trying to make that sequel happen, now, and am finding that writing artistically coherent and non-raunchy almost-porn is far harder than one would think. ;)

And that's about the extent of what's bouncing around in my brain right now, so I'm going to finish up this entry and get on with things. I could talk about the ridiculous crochet blanket my friend Matt commissioned as a gift to his friend, and how I slacked (focused on my writing) so much that at this point I need to whip out a round each weeknight and three rounds each weekend day from here out, to have it ready by the time he needs it. I could talk about my ridiculous insistence that watching Elementary was detrimental to my character voice (well, it WAS last year, I don't know why) and the fact that I finally gave in and let Greg put it on this past weekend; we binge-watched 18 episodes in a day and a half, and are almost caught up now. I could probably find another things or two to mention, too...but probably not much. Still not much up here in this noggin of mine except writing... ;P
willowmeg: Amber skull in front of round, moonlike drawing of flowers, in front of a purple starry sky. (Default)
I'm just going to train-of-thought here, and spew a bunch of stuff...who knows what will make sense and what won't...

So, I haven't done a real, honest-to-god journal entry in a good long while. I guess that's a side effect of the writing thing...yeah, that's still going strong. Right now I'm four-fifths of the way through writing the second book in my magical realism trilogy. (It currently stands at about 56,000 words, and I have perhaps 3 or 4 chapters left to get through. The 1st book was only 28,000 words.) It's going well...or, at least, it was going well until the last few days, and sometime between finishing chapter 18 and starting chapter 19 I began to hit a wall. Right now I'm still having bits of good ideas, but they're all for various parts in the timeline of the 3rd story, which I haven't gotten to yet - and it's hard to keep them all in good order, and organized so I know I can string them together down the road. What I'd really *like* to do is keep the momentum on the part of the story where I'm currently meant to be, but it seems that some part of my subconscious is starting to see the finish line ahead and balk at it. "I don't want to be done?" Not exactly. More like "the part I'm worried about is the climactic bit and the ending, and that's getting closer, and I don't want to have to deal with it yet."

Anyway. I had a whole bunch of other babbling here, all related to the plot and my issues with juggling various details and arcs...boring for anyone who isn't intimately familiar with my story. I cut it out. TL;DR: the Big-ness of the major emotional plot point I'm approaching (the point at which G's reconciliation with his estranged wife gets really happy and optimistic, and he bites the bullet and reveals his secret to her FINALLY - and she seems to take it well - but then less than a week later it's revealed that she's gone back to her lover and everything falls apart) is going to be so Big and Tough to write that I'm just mentally shying away from getting closer to it on a subconscious level. Bleah.

What else is on my mind?

Um, well, my Grandma might be dying soon. Greg and I got to see her, and sort of say goodbye, when we visited my family in Florida at the end of September. It was a good trip, but having her laid up in a hospital bed in her room down the hall the whole time we were there was a bit of a pall on an otherwise pleasant holiday. Still, it's bound to happen; there's no massive medical emergency to be worked up over; it's just a matter of keeping her comfortable and waiting...Mom and Dad are having it rough. They haven't been able to go anywhere together for months; one of them has to be in the house at all times...However, this week they've been able to get a little relief, in the form of a 4-day cruise bought for them by one of my brothers' old high school classmates. (Long story, but take it from me: it was a very, very touching gesture of appreciation for the kindness our parents had shown him.) Medicare is footing the bill for Grandma to be cared for in a nice hospice facility for the duration of their vacation; we're all just hoping she won't pass while Mom and Dad are gone. (Or, well, in talking to Mom she said she sort of hoped Grandma *would* just go during that time - there are, of course, arrangements pre-set just in case) but I think it would be better if that doesn't happen, as far as the potential for Mom's later guilt. Ugh, it's all very complicated down there. I don't really like thinking about it. As far as my own feelings on the situation, well...those are pretty mixed, too. I'm sort of feeling like I don't feel anything, which I know isn't really true. It probably won't hit me until after it happens, and we have to drive out for the funeral - that will happen up here in Ohio, so we'll see everyone again.

I think the closest I've gotten to really letting myself dip into Feelings about Grandma was last night...when an important scene's dialogue came to me for a point in the 3rd story. It's a scene where G has to visit the hospital and say goodbye to his ex-wife's grandmother, whom he loves very much, and she gives him a last bit of very important advice in regards to his special gift. This is...well, it's vaguely uncomfortable to admit that I got more emotional last night writing that than I did when I held Grandma's hand before we left my parents' house. Ugh. The guilt of a writer, huh? Extra guilt in the fact that the fictional grandmother lived to the age of 98 and remained at least 95% coherent up through very close to the end...it works as needed for the story, sigh. The real one is only 87, and in terms of coherency...well. Much, much less.

I wrote a short 1300-word erotica piece and published it this week. It's sort of an experiment - one of my friends and I were discussing the phenomenon wherein serious dramatic writing will always, always get less attention than spicy writing of any kind. Of course, I don't expect much attention from this either - it's still het, and it commits the sin (as some believe) of 2nd person POV, and it's more flirting and fantasy than action... K called it "erotic poetry" which is nice...anyway, it was an experiment. And I find it quite amusing that it has, in fact, garnered 18 kudos and 4 bookmarks within 24 hours of being published... heh.

I think I originally started this entry because I wanted to allow myself a shameless moment to whine about having a week where my betas are unavailable and uncommunicative. My local beta N is currently 8 (!) chapters behind, two of which I've gone ahead and published without waiting for her input (because I had got feedback from my other 2 betas). She hasn't read for me in about a month and a half now! I don't know what the deal is with her, she's apparently job-hunting right now...and who knows what that entails. My husband is "job hunting" too, but he still has a ton of time to do what he wants to do at home - that probably means he's doing it wrong (haha) but he does all the chores and cooking and shopping and car stuff, so I let it slide. My beta K just got back from a week of travel, and got a bad cold or something from that, so she's not communicating either except for a couple very brief emails - she's only 3 chapters behind, same as E. (I know if I were home sick, I would be doing NOTHING but reading and writing...but, as I've mentioned here, I'm an odd bird and I know it. For other people it's probably vegging in front of the TV.) As for E, she's occupied on a trip with her wife, happily researching her heart out - I do hope she finds time to quickly dip into the chapters when she gets back (this weekend?), because it's very shortly going to be the time of year when I lose her completely due to her university teaching pressures. So... *sigh* I just have to keep plugging along, and keep myself motivated...
willowmeg: Amber skull in front of round, moonlike drawing of flowers, in front of a purple starry sky. (Default)
Writing a book - even a "fake" one, I suppose, since so many people seem to think that the basis of "real" means something that one could publish and earn money for legally, no matter that that's a stupid way to think - writing a book (writing bookS) really does change your brain.

You think you have a style of thinking. You think you have a way of looking at the world; a way of connecting to the people you know, the people you love. A way of dealing with the people you don't. Or maybe you don't think you have those things, at all: you simply are, in the way that you are, without ever giving it consideration.

And then something changes.

It's gradual, at first. It starts with a fantasy, maybe, a love of a character that grows into a desire to see that character do more; a need to see that character shift and grow and change and love, and then before you know it that character is more to you than they ever had been. And that's fine. That's something that others can relate to, because that character exists for them too, just not in the same way. Maybe just as big under their skin (some of them), but not in *your* way. Not until you find a way to make them see it, too - and then, if you do it just right, maybe your version of that character can snug up under their skin along with their own version. Maybe they'll learn to love yours, too.

And that's one thing. And it's pretty nice. But it's only the beginning, because along the way there were details, and extraneous things, and suddenly - oh - you've got yourself more characters. And these ones are different; these ones don't exist for anyone else at all, and they never have, and they never will until you push them out to be seen. They grow, and move, and crave sushi, and laugh at stupid jokes...they listen to music and wish for things (that only you can give them, and that you still may not)...they misunderstand things, and fidget with their hair, and wish they could sleep in longer. They're all so incredibly unique, which is endlessly surprising, given that they've all come from the same place. And the strangest thing is that they're still there when you're not writing.

They're somehow, inexplicably, still there.

Sometimes I'm sitting in my car, lately, and I look out the window at the person two cars away; I study the shadow of his head and I almost think I can see the echo of a disappointment, or an itchy collar, or a craving for pizza. I hear a woman's voice on the other end of my phone call to the utility company, and I think about whether she has a cat at home, whether she wishes she had another cup of coffee even though her doctor's recommended she cut back. None of these things are real, but I find myself thinking these things just the same, as if all the people in the real world were reducing themselves to stories inside my head, and the people inside my head were rearing up simultaneously to become more real. Is it stranger that I never cared before, or that I care now? Because - at the same time, I can barely bring myself to interact with anyone in the passing sense. I've curled into myself. I barely care about my actual work enough to do it - thank goodness much of it can be done while my attention is elsewhere. I can't stand Facebook for more than thirty seconds at a time. I'm only talking to a select few friends (and only those ones that, even if they don't understand what I'm doing, at least are tolerant of the fact that it's really all that exists inside my head now). I'm only really *connecting* with the two or three people that have made themselves available to me, who've decided to help me take this journey. That seems disingenuous, maybe.

How is it possible to feel so purposefully, utterly disconnected from everything - and at the same time feel like I understand so much more of the world, so much more of the otherness of other people and how they manage to live and breathe and exist in brains that are not mine? How is it possible that nothing real even matters - and at the same time, that everything is so much more vividly real?

Maybe, when I finish my run with these licensed characters, when they've lived out their stories and figured out their mistakes and eaten all their sushi, I'll root around inside my head and find new ones, more of my own - maybe they'll want to do things in their own world. Maybe they won't. I don't know anything about having my own world, yet.

Writing is so very strange.

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willowmeg: Amber skull in front of round, moonlike drawing of flowers, in front of a purple starry sky. (Default)
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