What seemed so important to write down yesterday (which I did not do) is lost on me this morning. When I woke up yesterday I remembered a horrific dream. I know what I was really seeing, that it was just my mind reliving the loss and the pain and the guilt of putting my dog down in November. That I’m struggling with the decision, struggling with the memory of watching her life fade right in front of me. For whatever reason, my mind created a dream and put a suffering child in the place of my dog, and I watched it happen all over again. I don’t know why. It feels like I’m being punished for a sin. Why was it important for me to write down something that I really don’t want to remember? Perhaps I just wanted to stick to my goal of writing every day. But maybe some things shouldn’t be written, or seen, ever again. Spending too much time editing a basic blog entry. This isn’t Hemingway, it’s just a dream journal, after all. Leave it alone. Decided will most likely call any book of poetry or microfiction I feel I’m ready to publish “Blood Dreams.”
So I didn’t write yesterday, but am doing so now. Still reading the same old things instead of reading something new, like the books I received at Christmas. Maybe I just want to feel comfortable in the “known” instead of venturing.
Took a look at those 15 pages I wrote a while ago, back when I was having problems with the flash drive and lost my own drive to finish it. I’m not happy with the story at all. I feel I need to start fresh with it. The voice is all wrong. I certainly don’t want anyone else to edit it yet because it’s not even close to being what I know it can be. Haven’t really made a breakthrough with a longer piece, but perhaps this will be the one I can feel “right” about. I have two other things that must be done today. It’s very hard for me to say, ok, I’ll write for three hours, but then I must stop because I have to go buy groceries. Yuck. Then I’ll never get back to it, just like last time, OR I won’t get groceries (just like last time) and that’s no good either. Resolution is not to write more, but to know when it’s time to stop, and then go back to it when it’s appropriate. That’s too much like being responsible, and just plain unnatural for me. Well then, nothing gets done unless you do it, so…
Lots to say here and time is currently short but if I leave I might not (& know you’ll understand) You write horrible things down as a means to get them out of your head, so you don’t have to think so much about them (like items for a shopping list too). Comfort is needed after such an experience – our needs for such fluctuate, as does the ability to write certain ways. That said, your writing is light years away from mine, contains a poetry and lightness of touch and a twirl of opaqueness mine will never attain, so not surprising that the state of mind is precarious.
As for the shopping versus writing – I can only stand in admiration since I never had a writing thought in my head while I had to be domestic.
Stick at it, love, you’re doing fantastic.
Man, how I count on you for these strong things. thank you for coming by and reading and leaving your thoughts. it means so much to me, Sandra, you have no idea. i count on you for your tenacity, your volume of work, and that inspires me, which is something i’d like to have light years of!! :hugs: right, the state of mind is precarious, and its a ledge we writers constantly stand on and look down, but we are blessed with something to holler as we slide down. you make such a wonderful noise on your way down and i wanna ride that ride with you!!!!