EDIT! Have been slowly building this site - today I had a bit of time to procrastinate with, so I'm getting things done. I have edited the posts already up to include a number - they are not chapters, rather today is Day 8 of this project. If you want to read what I wrote yesterday, go find the post 7. I'm also thinking this will help later when I go to take sections and re-order them into what makes sense for the book as a whole.
Everything below this is exactly as it was when I first published the post
I'm trying. It's only 5pm right now, not 10pm like it was when I sat down to write yesterday - so that's progress, right? I even walked the dogs earlier because I figured if I couldn't think of anything to write, an idea might come up during the walk. That, and I wanted to walk the dogs in daylight - felt safer that way.
The other thing is I am 10000% procrastinating cleaning my house. All of it needs to be done, and since there's no magic dish fairy, it's up to me. When faced with the options of write for 30mins with no clear idea or do dishes... well... here I am.
***
She wasn't going to do it out of the goodness of her heart. She might have, years ago, before she became jaded by the world, betrayed by someone that was supposed to love her till death do them part, and hit a seemingly endless series of 'rock-bottoms'.
Now, Nicole had read enough to know that pretty much every wish or deal was a double edged sword, and it was nearly impossible to close all the loopholes.
Sure, she could wish to never run out of money for the rest of her life - and get hit by a bus tomorrow.
Or to fit back into the clothes she wore when she was at her (unhappiest) thin nest - but knew that might come with stomach cancer or something else horrible.
Life was not simple, and every action has an equal and opposite reaction.
But right now, right now Nicole had had about enough. Yes, a lot of it was first world problems, problems that she was lucky to have, but that didn't mean it didn't suck or her misery was any less valid.
Things had been snowballing and getting progressively worse to the point where her near-toxic optimism was broken, and trying to find the positives, the silver linings, it all seemed like a waste of effort.
Calling friends, trying to meet for walks or coffees or etc - everyone was so busy. And these days most people associated phone calls with tragedy - outside of her mom of course.
To sit there and text, to hope she happened to catch someone while they were also available to reply - hahahaha. The reply time had stretched from within an hour to 3-5 business days. Everyone was busy living life.
This was her chance. They needed her. They. Needed. Her. They. Needed. HER. And yes, she had a vested interest in helping things out - why? becasue she's one of the assholes who lives there (Guardians of the Galexy reference anyone?)
But that doesn't mean that she should leave it like that. Not when this maybe could be her chance. What's the worse that could happen? Oh dear god. DELETE that sentence! That's like tempting the fates - and Nicole was one wrong thing from having a complete meltdown.
But she couldn't ask. To use the fate of the world as a bartering chip for selfish gain? Ugh. She mentally rolled her eyes just thinking of how she would react if this scenario played out in a movie or in a book.
So she wouldn't ask.
Fuck.
For a moment, she let herself think of what life could be like if she did....but all that daydream did was depress her. No. She was in charge of her own life, her own happiness, and she might not be able to control a lot, but she could control her thoughts (most of the time).
She would have the life of her dreams - because she was going to make that happen.
So as she did when anyone in her life needed help, Nicole said Yes. She might not have a lot (or anything) left to give, but she would do what she can. Every little bit matters, right?
All of this went though her head in a matter of minutes. She knew she could take more time to think about it, but all that would do is give her more time to stress about it and second guess her choices.
"I'm going to do it."
"......"
"that's it. I know I could ask for anything I wanted or dreamed of, but I'm not. Besides, what I would ask for - to be happy, healthy, comfortable, and authentic in all areas of my life - I don't think you could do that. It would be easier if I asked for a billion dollars. So, I'm going to do it. Now, where do we begin?"
"....okay. Let's begin"
****
Sometimes when I'm writing and I'm a bit stuck, I imagine what I would tell the production team for this scene in a movie (or better - tv series like BBC's Sherlock). What details would I give? How do I see this playing out in my head? Sometimes this is easy - I don't think in pictures or worlds, rather full sensory movies (if the information is there). I don't just remember when I touched the Collesium for the first time. I remember my exhaustion, my anxiety, my sense of disbelief as I reached out my hand and touched the cold, bumpy stone. The smell of urine softly mingling with baked cheese, with the soundtrack of nearby traffic, boisterous tourists, and a nearby busker plucking away at the guitar.
When I remember that moment, I see my hand slowly rise and hover, nearly retreating, before slowly making contact with the strategically lit monument. I see the cuff of my winter jacket ride up my wrist, and the torn nail from when I was packing my backpack.
All of those details are there, and I relive the moment, as a first person passive observer.
I also think of other writers who have done what I'm trying to achieve and try to channel them, while still being true to me.
I know that the way I write isn't the way books are written. I know even if you take the disconnected daily posting out of it - that it is my style of prose that is different. I tend to write the way I think and to just let it flow instead of trying to fit into a box and be like other people. I don't want to be 'the next anyone' I want to be the first ME. Vaisey Stiles.
Trying to change how I write would just mean that I wouldn't write.
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