Caterwauling

I wasn’t expecting fireworks and confetti or anything like that, but standing here, sleep-deprived and spent, I want to somehow celebrate — you guessed it — this:

The story isn’t over, of course, but it is a good time to take a break. I need to dream up something rather dastardly, and believe it or not, that simply isn’t my nature. I get good and mad in life, don’t get me wrong. Rev me up and watch my head spin. But honestly? I’m more apathetic than anything.

A REAL FIRST — AND HOPEFULLY NOT THE LAST FIRST

I mean, I just don’t finish things I start. EVER. One thing I miss about being in upper management (and perhaps it’s the only thing) is the possibility of having a really good staff who would listen to my visions and execute my ideas with whatever methodology worked best for them. Because left to my own devices, all those ideas got trapped in my head when something more shiny caught my eye.

So, that I wrote 115 pages, well, damn. Go, me. But what scares me? That I will leave my poor characters suspended in their drama — that I will look at the book next October and go, enh. Didn’t get to finish it. Oh well. Too bad, so sad.

I was kind of thinking about how to do something evil to my beloved characters when I realized that I walk away from everything. Not intentionally, but when I’m done with something, I’m really done. I don’t mean to be that way — but when I give up, there’s no going back.

POWER FAILURES, GENERATORS

I was asking my mom the other day why I seem to put off so many people (we were talking about particular people). She reminded me that I was put off by THEM in the first place, so of course they weren’t going to find me lovable. Heh. I hadn’t thought of it that way.

She also revealed that I intimidate the shit out of practically everyone I meet. Mild little me? Was she for real? She said few people know who they are and can articulate it at every turn, and that makes some people quake in the presence of that trait.

I don’t know. I don’t know that I’m all that strong or smart or even ambitious anymore. I just feel like I’ve lost chunks of my life and, thus, pieces of my identity — and “completing” (as it were) my novel gave me back the power I’d lost

TO START ANEW OR TO CONTINUE, THAT IS THE QUESTION

I realize that, in never finishing things I start, I’ve walked away from numerous arguments and situations — ranging from the volatile to the downright frustrating or just BORING — because that’s my nature. Things in my past are dead to me. Sure, I reflect here and there, but it’s mostly to examine what happened so I can learn a lesson and REALLY nail the coffin to the past.

One lesson I’ve picked up is that my impatience is overpowering. I want immediate results or I don’t want to play the game. Or maybe I can wait for awhile but then I become a pressure cooker of sorts.

So the neat thing about NaNoWriMo was that I was the only one who could make myself win. I had to organize my time to allow for two extended periods away from the computer. I was the one who had to budget whether an extra hour of sleep or that extra thousand words would make me feel more alive.

The latter always won.

And thus, so did I.

So, I’m not so sure I made an actual point with this entry. Maybe all I was looking to do was see it in black-and-white that I set my mind to kick ass, and I did. And that I need to keep up the momentum by kicking my OWN ass because the pressure of the deadline is gone.

I don’t work well without deadlines and certainly not with arbitrary ones. For as free-spirited as I am, there’s a part of me that craves structure. I am a taskmaster when I want to be, but if no one’s holding me accountable, well, the free spirit reigns supreme.

Maybe I’m afraid of committing to anything (or, let’s face it, anyone) because I’m so afraid I’m going to lose that spirit. But maybe what I hadn’t considered all these years is that, the more familiar I am with someone/something, the more creative I can become in keeping things interesting.

Which is why I’ve opted to write a book series for NaNoWriMo every year as opposed to new, wacky and wild storylines. Because I know these characters so well that it actually DOES hurt me to hurt them. But that’s what makes me fix up their boo-boos after I’ve finished annhilating their lives.

And maybe, to bring this full circle, that’s what I need to do with me. Be patient, gather my strength and rock socks in any way I can. Even if it’s a series of quiet victories rather than the huge splash I’d rather be making.

Someday, I’ll get my fireworks. And maybe I’ll be able to relax and watch them sparkle and shine. Maybe someday, others will be watching me do the exact same thing.

This entry was posted on Thursday, December 1st, 2005 at 2:33 PM and is filed under Existential Meanderings. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.