Caterwauling

And all through Chez Dawn
The Apple G4 hummed expectantly
Yet the author’s mental state was gone.

As she updated her profile
Panic set in
Because she has no fucking idea
How her novel will begin.

Bestow unto me, my beloved Muse, the opening line that will incite a torrent of brilliant (and even not-so-clever) literature.

The pressure’s on — the clock starts ticking tomorrow. I’ve been thinking about my characters for days. Hell, I’ve been thinking about them for years. I’ve fallen in love with a secondary character and damn near lost interest in a primary one.

I know in two weeks, I will hate them all. But right now, they are my babies, the many facets of my personality, my lovers and friends and enemies, all rolled into words.

And that’s what this is all about — words. Thoughts. Sentiments. Longing. Desire. Vitriol. Love. Passion. Anything but indifference. Losing myself in my fantasies and nightmares and the things I never daresay aloud.

Writing to process the past, ponder the present, plan the potential occurrences that I’d love to happen in my very own life. Allowing them to happen to my heroine. Letting her ache and triumph and live in ways I wish I could. Transferring my myriad fears and my strength into a character the pages can barely contain. Becoming her, living as her for 30 whole days.

Should be easy — I’ve done it for 30 whole years. This month, I get to be who I was meant to be.

Muse, give me strength.

This entry was posted on Monday, October 31st, 2005 at 10:05 PM and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.