The car is one of my brainstorming places. I flip through blogging ideas, discuss plot with The Muse, and hash out character flaws with individual characters on the short trip to and from the office. Today, after a long day at what we call an ‘off-site’ (because I wasn’t at my usual work location) I was doing just this. Having scraped frost off of my windshield before leaving this morning, I was surprised to have my windows cranked down, but less surprised to be blasting the stereo, as is required for beautifully warm autumn nights.
Shuffle is my best friend when I’m letting my mind wander. I’ll start with a song that reminds me of the characters or story and then let the iPod do whatever it wants. Today, windows down, singing out loud, Meatloaf pops up in the mix. The iPod generally avoids Meatloaf, but songs from my [redacted] days are always welcome on driving-with-the-windows-open-and-singing-out-loud days.
When it was all said and done, I arrived home with a smile despite spending most of the day wanting to scratch my eyes out thanks to new contacts and an overly dry building. Singing and bebopping along in the car can do that. I can also inspire me to write.
What it didn’t do was solve my blogging/writing problem.
I’ll be off-site for the entire week. I’m without the ability to Twitter (probably a good thing) and without the usual vast amount of downtime (bad for writing). Not only will I not be writing during the day, but these off-site functions are mentally draining, so writing at home will be like pulling teeth. With a sledgehammer.
Such is life and the job that pays is not that of writing fiction. It may be that by this weekend, I’ll officially pull out of NaNo unless I have some blind burst of inspiration to make up for not writing this week. I’m not giving up, however. I’ll still work on this story, but going into the week behind on the word count topped by this hell-week, means that 45k is not going to happen. I’m okay with that because I know the story will still happen – just not by the end of the month. November has always been this way to me. Evil month.
Expect me to be nearly silent, dear Readers. I’ll still post CRANK Wednesday night, but I’ll probably not blog again until Monday. FridayFlash is also out this week. I’ll pop in on Twitter here and there, but I won’t be reading anything that isn’t and @ or DM because there simply won’t be the time. I’ll miss you, my friends, but I’ll return soon. Don’t behave while I’m gone, and do everything that I would do and more.
I’ll leave you with Meatloaf. If you can get a listen to this slam-style recording, it is a great inspiration for certain characters dear to my heart.
Blog at you soon!
Ciao,
Pia
Wasted youth!
Wasted youth!
I remember everything!
I remember every little thing
As if it happened only yesterday
I was barely seventeen,
And I once killed a boy with a Fender guitar.
I don’t remember if it was a telecaster or a stratocaster
But I do remember that it had a heart of chrome
And a voice like a horny angel.
I don’t remember if it was a telecaster or a stratocaster
But I do remember that it wasn’t at all easy.
It required the perfect combination of the right power chords
And the precise angle from which to strike.
The guitar bled for about a week afterward
And the blood was so dark and rich, like wild berries.
The blood of the guitar was Chuck Berry red.
The guitar bled for about a week afterward,
But it rung out beautifully
And I was able to play notes
That I had never even heard before.
So I took my guitar,
And I smashed it against the wall
I smashed it against the floor
I smashed it against the body of a varsity cheerleader
Smashed it against the hood of a car
Smashed it against a 1981 Harley Davidson
The Harley howled in pain,
The guitar howled in heat.
And I ran up the stairs to my parents’ bedroom
Mommy and Daddy were sleeping in the moonlight
Slowly I opened the door, creeping in the shadows
Right up to the foot of their bed
I raised the guitar high above my head
And just as I was about to bring the guitar
Crashing down upon the center of the bed,
My father woke up, screaming “Stop!”
“Wait a minute! Stop it boy!
What do ya think you’re doin’?
That’s no way to treat an expensive musical instrument!”
And I said: “God Dammit Daddy!
You know I love you,
But you got a hell of a lot to learn about Rock ‘n Roll”
(Meatloaf, Wasted Youth)
You shall be missed, chica! *hugs*
I have never heard this poetry before. Perhaps I should overlook the tacky band name and deep deeper. Let me recommend Velvet Underground. The album, looks like white with a banana.
Your dedication meant a lot. You just don’t know.
Safe journey.