I wanted to write a quick fiction piece. That was my intention when I logged on. I have a piece in a bigger story that the back of my brain is chewing on. It's not quite ready to be written, it's close and I will get something out for Dana this week, but it's still tumbling around in there. Often when that is happening what helps it gel is to write something just front of brain, top of mind, super quick. So that was my intention.
But I had nothing to write about. I'm in a bad mood. I've been in a bad mood for the past few days. Mostly PMS related. I'll admit that. But hormone driven pissed off is just as pissed off as any other kind of pissed off. Probably more so. Politics and stupidity and antifa assholes and hormones and an angry uterus that needs to just stop pinching me...It's not a good combination. And it's really not a good combination for creativity.
But I still wanted to write a quick fiction piece. For one thing a really good piece can make me feel better. I might still be in a bad mood but I MADE something. And when you MAKE something you can look at it and say, the world might be pissing me off but I was still able to MAKE this today! And I not only MADE this I SHARED it with you. Because I'm a good fucking person!
Or something like that.
When I'm in a bad mood I tend to need to remind myself that at my core I'm actually not a violent, raging, asshole who will cut a bitch but a decent, kind, person who really cares if you are having a good day or not. Sometimes it takes a lot of reminding. And Brent agreeing. And cake. But since I've cut back on sugar and try to only have sweets on the weekend cake is out of the question on a Tuesday. Which pretty much is the stupidest idea I've ever come up with and who the fuck thinks sugar is bad anyway? Dietitians? Scientists? Medical Doctors? Idiots...
I wanted to write a quick short story to self medicate because the sugar was out of the question and my uterus is all pinchy (and pinche to tell the truth!) and...well...nothing.
I have a few ideas written down. Death following me this morning is one of them. But that's going to BE something. I want to think on that one a bit longer. I have a pretty traditional love story start written down but it might actually belong in the bigger piece I seem to be writing even though I am not really big on bigger pieces, but anyway I think those people are part of that story and I don't want to break them off and realize, yep, they don't belong here. I've already got one short story I need to search for that I've realized belongs with that bigger piece...which none of you care about because you haven't read it yet and are like, Umm...what bigger piece? If you didn't bring enough to share with the class we're going to have to ask you to stop...
So when no other ideas came I started working on the rest of sabbatical. I have a few more pieces to put in place now that the bigger frame work is there. I'm pretty sure I'm adding a trip to San Francisco, (Francisco...that's a fun name) but I'm not entirely sure what I want to do there. You know? I mean I've never been out of the airport there. I've been to Alameda (where they keep the nuclear wessles) I've flown in and out of San Francisco, but I've never looked around the city itself. So what should we do? Alcatraz. Walking across the bridge. Ummm....what else? Don't know. So that got put on hold while I think about it.
Fine, okay, back to writing. Felt like Winnie the Pooh, think think, think think, think think...and nothing. Fine, I'll just go the easy route. Googled writing prompts. Found a website with 365 writing prompts clicked it and...
This site is unreliable and possibly unsafe.
Which really is my problem right now.
My ideas are unreliable and possibly unsafe.
Isn't that just the way some days go?