Eleven Fifty Nine Post Meridiem

We’ve got to waste some time.  Time is always spent on expensive things that don’t matter much.  We should pull the waded bills of time out of our pockets and drop it in the wind to fly off wherever it may.  Close your eyes and open your fists.  Let it go.

Whither away in the things that make the world disappear.  Those activities that build a castle around you.  Only let in those who are willing to forget that time is a thing and remember that we made it up to begin with.  Time has no place here.  No clocks, no hours and no minutes.

Don’t spend time on doing things that need to be done because you have to.  Waste time on doing things that don’t because you want to.

Eve

“Close your eyes for a moment and listen.  Stop thinking, stop questioning and do it.  I’ll wait.”

She hated giving in but she decided to concede for a moment.

“You better not do anything to me or touch me or try to scare me.  I’ll fucking sock you one, hard.”

“Shh.  Close your eyes.”

I waited ten seconds for her to settle before speaking again.

“Now don’t say a word and try to move as little as possible until I tell you I’m done.”

I was only a foot away from her.  We were sitting in the car in the back of the parking lot at the grocery store.  It was late and there weren’t many people around.  The car was off and there was no sound except the occasional car zooming by on the highway that ran next to the parking lot.

“You’re you and I’m me and we’ve got this thing between us.  We also have our own things going on separately and we can’t spend every moment we want to with each other.”

My voice was soft.  I had to concentrate to keep it as monotone and straight as possible.  It often fluctuates to eccentric when I’m the only one talking, as if I forgot how to speak as if I were a normal person.  I maintained it now as well as I ever had before.

“So I want you to try and imagine, without guilt or wariness, that it was just us in another plane of existence.  Somewhere that we could be we and nothing else was in our way.  No schedules or interruptions.  It was just like this, the two of us, only closer.”

A transport trucked whizzed by and the car rocked back and forth in its wake.  We both remained still.

“I want you to think of this other world us and imagine yourself there in other world you.  I want you to think of tonight in the stillness of the night in a quiet house with all but one tiny desk light on to peek through the room.  It’s just us there laying on the couch together enjoying the sounds of each others breathing.  My hands are in your hair and your making soft cooing sounds every few minutes.”

I grazed my finger tip along the side of her neck and around the back of it.  Her held tilted and a soft sound was muffled by her closed lips.

“It’s Christmas Eve and it’s just us.  The night is creeping on and we’re stretching it out as far as it will go.  We’ll eventually slip away to the bedroom and stick our bodies together as if they were made of glue but not before our eyes got heavy.”

My fingertips slipped through her dark hair and let it cascade downward out of my hand.

“When we woke up the next morning we’d let the day slip away.  Christmas morning would be Christmas afternoon before we decided to get out of bed and join the world.  We’d be able to do anything.  Presents.  Slip into the car for a drive anywhere just to enjoy the lonely roads together.  It was as if the world fell asleep and forgot to wake up with us and we were going to take advantage of it.”

I wasn’t looking at you.  I was speaking down your body.  I knew if I was speaking at you and looking at you that it wouldn’t last long enough because you’d tell me to stop.  Now I was almost done.

“So tonight and tomorrow when you’re with you and I’m with me remember to close your eyes and catch a flash of us.  That’s where we can be together when we can’t be together.  I hope you can make it.  Alright, I’m done.”

Then I leaned in and kissed her on the shoulder and stopped talking.

Conformity

My Kingdom For Some Focus

I was thinking on the drive in to work tonight.  It wasn’t any kind of epiphany or anything as I had pretty much determined the general theme of my lack of focus but I think I narrowed it down to where I can explain it to myself with a little more clarity:

When writing I need time to wander around the page.

What I think this means is that I can’t have something looming in the distance.  It stamps down on my creative process because my mind really is a Jackson Pollock painting.  I don’t often try and keep it boxed into an idea.  Often I’ll just open the hatch and let it run off into the wilderness while it picks up words in the brambles.  Thankfully the words often line up properly.

So when I’ve got a deadline in the near future I feel like the door won’t open.  The latch is stuck.  The paint can has rusted shut and someone locked up the brushes.

My best writing day, Sunday, I am able to take my time.  I saunter across the page, often blank, and check the corners.  I’ll stretch out and spin and yell to hear my echo.  I’ll leave the page blank and wander off, knowing its there and that I have plenty of time to come back to it.  Then I’ll find something, see something and my eyes will widen.  I’ll smile and I go running back to the blank page and begin to throw the ropes of paint on the canvas.

It usually builds from there.  I’ll spend hours pumping out words and thoughts sometimes.  Three or four hours will go by and I’ll look at the clock and not exactly wonder where the time went but be surprised it sneaked off so easily without me noticing.  It doesn’t fly as much as it closes the door without me noticing to leave me to myself.

When a deadline, even if its an hour or so away, I can’t stroll.  I can’t stretch.  I feel like I have to get the words out now because what happens if, in an hour, I’ve finally hit my stride and I have to stop.  All of that wasted creativity and surge of words would be crushing.  So, instead, I waste my time and complain about later like I’m doing now.

This is how it is.  Maybe saying it out loud will give me a little something.

I did jack shit today.  Slightly more yesterday.  I’m hovering around 8000 words.  I should be at nearly 12000 by the end of today.  I’m falling behind.  God damnit Rose, there is enough room for both of us on that freaking door!

I Knew This Would Happen

Tuesday.  God damn you Tuesday.
Don’t look so smug over there yourself Thursday.
And I see you as well Friday.
Saturday, shut it.

These are my challenge days.  The days I have no silence, as I do right now but instead of writing I’m complaining about not having time and quiet to write.  MAKES SENSE RIGHT?!

But I don’t work good in short intervals.  30 minutes to write down and keep my word count up doesn’t work for me.  I need time to stretch and tilt my head back and forth a few times trying to find the best angle for these words to shoot out through.  I’m one of those annoying artists who need everything just right for the picture to form.  I’m also terrible with analogies.

I ended up at 7000 words.  About 1300 short of where I needed to be to end yesterday but I still think it ended up a quality number.  I could have been stuck at less than 5000 and felt like punching myself in the face for even saying I was going to try this.  That’s good, right?

By the end of today it will be 6 days.  According to wonderful averages writing 1667 words a day for 30 days makes it approximately 10,000 words every 6 days.  I’m nearly there.  Which seems kind of cool.  An accomplishment of sorts that I was able to whip this out of nothing and have enough direction that I came up with nearly a fifth of the requirement.

So yay, right?
Right?

A problem with writing what I’m writing, a period romance story (I KNOW, RIGHT?!) is that it requires knowing so much of the history.  I feel like sometimes I might as well just staple a bunch of printed out wikipedia pages and say “LOOK I MADE A STORY!”  But I mean, obviously there’s a little more to it than that.  Thankfully.
But there is one part I wrote trying to connect things that felt like a history lesson and not part of a story.  I know the point of this whole WriMo thing is to just get it down and then go back afterwards and polish it up, but its so hard to go against my natural inclination to do the fixing while I’m writing.  Of course, that is why I never finish anything because I’m constantly trying to make it perfect and I lose steam.

So, I’m writing.  I need 3000 more to hit my goal.  I’m going to do this or die trying.  Well not die just…want to blink myself into a wall.  But yeah no this is fun.  THIS IS FUN!

Bonnie & Clyde

Lets tell all the keepers of time that they’ve had it wrong all these years.
We found a flaw in their plan.
A cricket in their matrix that keeps chirping to only us.
Time can’t be linear.
You can’t say yesterday was then and tomorrow is over there.
How can it be when I’ve known you for a short while but our bodies are so familiar,
as if we’ve been in a non stop orgy of just us.
Which means to beg me, we have to speak with the dictionary next.
Their words are wrong, like us cannot be two people when we often are one.
How do you see into my eyes when you speak through my lips
and how can my kiss attach itself to myself when your lips are hugging the lobe of my ear?
Time is wrong. Reality is false. The world means nothing.
Because in our own world we make the rules.
You and I.
Bonnie and Clyde.

55 Fiction: How Long Does A Smile Last?

I measured the days in her smiles.  Some were short but sweet.  Others went on and on while the sun nor the moon held jurisdiction over them.  I’ve lived lifetimes through her smiles and grew old at the corners of her lips.  Like the last leaf falling from a tree I’ll die when she stops.

We all have to start somewhere.

 

Everyday I think about becoming a writer.  Everyday I drive to work and every night when I drive home I plan the various stories I have swirling around in my head and when I get to where I’m going I have to stop.  I daydream about how magnificent it would be to be able to sit down anywhere I want and write something.  To have that writing read and enjoyed by others.  To be free to let my imagination run wild with no time frame of when it needs to be turned on and shut off.  This is my first step to making that dream a reality.Read More »