Things are busy at work, and more stressful than I’d like. Things are less busy than I’d like at my writing desk, though, and that’s got me concerned. Well…somewhat, anyway.
Work worries me because it’s a bunch of stuff I’m not interested in doing. And I generally enjoy my job, and I’ve learned a lot doing it. A lot of what I’m seeing falls outside my scope, though, and it’s leaving me frustrated and unhappy.
But this week has a simple programming (yay!) task in front of me. At least, so far. Nothing else is burning the house down. I have to add this one to the list of projects I have to do, but other than that, it should go swimmingly. Nothing I haven’t done before, and nothing I won’t do again, I’m sure.
I’ve been getting to work an hour before my start time for a long while now – a few years – but that’s a choice. And lately, I find myself staying almost an hour after I’m supposed to leave, and that’s usually not a choice but a necessity. When I finally get home, I’ve got little or nothing left in the tank. It’s all I can do to stay awake through dinner.
I’ve also been spending quite a lot of my free (and therefore, my writing) time with the kids. No regrets, no hesitation. They may actually get sick of me before long, but I could do this the rest of my life. (I’d miss writing, but I love the time with my kids.)
But I’ve noticed some weirdness I can’t really explain, and it’s got me a little flummoxed.
First, I’m dreaming about the video game Destiny. I’m not sure what it is about that game. Heck, I’ve only played once, on Sunday. And it was less enjoyable than I wanted it to be. The kids kept laughing at me about how I swore and cursed and frothed at the game and the characters.
(I did this with Mass Effect 2 as well, and when someone suggested maybe I not play, I looked like the suggester had a sausage growing from their face. Of course I’m going to play it; raging against it is half the fun, dammit!)
I did it in part to see if it would clear out my dreams. I know I’ve been watching the kids play a lot, and figured that was the cause of the Destiny-flavored dreams. They aren’t dreams about the Destiny universe, either – they are literal dreams about the game, and watching someone play. So I figured I’d clean out the circuits and play for myself, just to have a different angle on the whole thing.
Well, eventually I lost interest (not at all like with Mass Effect wherein I got hooked deep and long). So I set that aside. Later I went to bed and you know what?
It didn’t work. I dreamed about that stupid video game again.
UGH. So now there’s something odd going on and I have no idea what. I guess the cure there is to stop watching the kids play the damned game and get on with something grown up.
Maybe writing, eh?
On that front, I’m something like 11K words into a new story. I liked the idea when I hatched it, and I liked it when I started writing it, but I wonder if now, after a couple of months of hemming and hawing on it, if I really don’t like the story very much. I try to sit down and latch on to the next thing – just to write the next thing, whatever it is, wherever it is – and can’t find it. I have no idea what’s wrong with either me or the story or both, but for some reason I can’t get it back into focus.
In fact, I’m wondering if it ever had focus. Did I never have a clear idea of the events, the unfolding? I’ve created a couple of characters I think readers will like, and I have a setting I like (and can only hope readers will too), and the characters are about to encounter the problem they have to solve (that’s the first three points of the seven-point plot). So I have all the elements – character(s), in a setting, with a problem. The rest should write itself.
Except it ain’t. *Sigh*
As a hack, this is pretty frustrating. I want to write. I might even have time to write again someday. I vowed to write a simple hour a day, just one lousy-stinking-sonuvagunnin’ hour a day. And I’ve missed horribly for the last two months. It’s like I can’t stop laughing at my own reaction when I shoot myself in the foot.
Well, today’s not over yet, and there’s a bum hip driving me off the ridiculously worn-out and uncomfortable couch, and a computer desk with my name all over it (I did it with a Sharpie a couple years back). So maybe it’s going to be okay.
What do you think? How’ve you been? How’s tricks? (Sorry, I missed you all.)