Week 17

I’m not posting a story this week. I wrote one and I deleted it, then I wrote it again and almost deleted it but left it open on my computer while I read a book and hoped that my Mac would carry out the execution for me.


It did not.


With that story written and safely hidden on my computer with other things I hope no one will find after I die (What? I’m talking about my secret wedding pintrest board) I am caught up on the week I lagged behind because of my trip to Georgia.


Sure the story might be about a woman who turns all of the men she goes out with into fruit and leaves them in the fruit bowl to rot…but really, they can’t all be winners, can they?


Writing 52 stories in a year is daunting but the fact that they are 52 different lives I get to live is what makes writing them so much fun. Unlike writing a novel I can change who I want to be based on the week. Today I was feeling vicious so I let middle aged losers rot in a fruit bowl and with the last word written on a story that will never see the light of day I exhaled and let my frustrations go.


I’ve learned a lot about myself and how I write in these 17 weeks. I’ve learned that I need it, that if I don’t do it, it’s like an itch that wont relent. I stomp around and everything everyone does annoys me. I can’t settle to bake cookies or sit to watch tv. It must be a lot like junkies feel when they need to get their fix. I don’t want to write when I’m so wound up and I know that usually when I’ve let it get so far, what I put down won’t be something I’ll want to pick up, but I have to so I can get to the good stuff or just take a shower without being angry that the water is too wet and the soap is too slippery and WHY GOD WHY DIDN’T I REMEMBER TO BUY MORE SHAMPOO?!


I’ve learned that even the bad stories are important, and that sometimes just getting them out on paper or on my computer screen in their first awful draft is the whole battle. Sometimes they don’t need other eyes to read them, they just need to exist.


Now it’s time for me to go shower, without shampoo apparently.


Also, until we meet again avoid vicious lies from your tea like the one above.


One Comment Add yours

  1. cedrixclarke says:

    Stories you write now and hate may be stories you love later. Some fruit in bowls need to ripen. You’re a mile into your 5K now. One-third of the way. Way to go.

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