The Wabi-Sabi Writer

After my nearly month long fling, an on again off again affair with words,  I am struggling to reach the climax of my novel.  I have to wonder if I have been medicated along with my main character, the Prozac of a process dulling my ability to achieve release, the looming deadline tempting me with a case of the fuckits.  Go out and enjoy the sunshine,  eat brunch, drink wine, watch movies or to hell with it all - binge watch some series on Netflix.

It would appear the critic has spat out her ball-gag and is ranting like a demon in the back of the dimly lit cellar of my mind.

Time to shove that slobbery red rubber globe back in her yaw, tighten the restraints and lock the padded cell door.

36 hour hold starts now.

Long Live the Writers.

It was a rough first week of words.  All my best intentions were muddled by stress and self doubt.  I would walk up the steep hills of my Cow Hollow neighborhood to try to give form to my ideas.  As the days passed and the word debt increased, I did find a thread to follow, a path to take, a dark and looming cloud that promised a rain of plot on the pages.  Yet, like San Francisco these days, nothing rained down.  

It was the night before I planned to race a local half marathon (with a broken toe, not wise) that I decided I would do whatever it takes to bring the words.  Divining, rain dances - hell, I even washed my car.  And this morning, when the alarm went off, I pulled on my running shoes, felt the sharp twang in my toe and decided not to race but instead write.  

And as of now, I am caught up and aiming to exceed my word count goals (with hours left in the night and a full pot of tea waiting)

And so begins my delve into the madness of Van Gogh Latte 



"And while the paths of the brain are plainly visible, its ways deceptively apparent, its destinations are unknown. Its secrets still secret. And, if we are honest, it is the lure of the labyrinth that draws us to our chosen field to unlock those secrets. Others have been here before us and have left us signs, but we, as explorers of the mind, must devote our lives and energies to going further to tread the unknown corridors in order to find ultimately, the final solution. We have to see, we have to know..."

Hellbound: Hellraiser II

Tomorrow begins my quest to write a novel in a month.  50K words in 30 days. 

As I sit here contemplating a month of words, I am faced with the ever familiar dilema - what to write.  Sometimes it is just a matter of sitting down, of putting pen to paper, fingers to keyboard.  Or the scavenger hunt for the elusive "time" to write.  Hints of it, in retrospect after a day long Orange is the New Black or Game of Thrones binge, or that aching longing for it, in dull meetings or frustrating circular conversations with co-workers.  Yet when I get down to the task at hand, notions and inspiration leave the building.  And I am left to fixate on things that are equal parts frustrating and compelling...

Finish Fences - The 2013 NaNoWriMo winner - a story well underway but with at least 50K to reach a first edit worthy ending.  Would be nice in light of the my other life-quests to finish something I started.

Delve into the madness of Van Gogh Latte - a story spanning a few thousand words that would wind its way through manic obsession and psychotic breakdown (the main character, not the author - one would hope)

Instead I am opting for A novel Novel - one I have likened to Jodi Picoult meets Stephen King.   


Time to take a deep breath and jump in... Won't you join me?

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