Sunday, August 21, 2011

The Post that Wasn't

Last night, in the blink of a moment after letting my head hit the pillow, I was flooded with an idea for new blog post.

I had the title and the opening and even some ideas on how to fill it.

Just so you know, this post isn't it.

The Post-That-Wasn't had all the makings of a thought provoking, laugh out loud funny read that was destined to launch me into blogosphere fame...(and, as far as you know, it's all true).

That is...if I would have hauled my ass out of bed to write down a few crucial details.

Instead, you get this - me whining about the unreliability and inopportune timing of Epiphanies.

A few days ago I was in the shower, mid shampoo, when the inspiration for reworking a flash fiction story struck - right down to the wording on opening the story.

My brain was ricocheting around the inside of my skull it was so antsy to get the words out - it knows all too well how difficult it is for my Swiss cheese memory to hold on to anything!

I cut my shower short, dried the necessary bits (to be less drippy for my streak across the house) and bounded, in all my nekkid glory, to the computer to write it down. Whew...just in the nic of time!

I wrote the whole first paragraph in a frenzy - because I just HAD to.

Have you ever been struck by a need to do something, that need being so relentless that it won't let you go until you attempt to do it? Regardless of the risk of being seen by your neighbors, sitting nekkid in your computer chair, since you failed to replace the curtains on the sliding glass door after shrinking them in the washing machine? And wondering if it was meter reading day (said meter sitting right next to curtain-less sliding glass door)?

No? You haven't?


Back to the Post-That-Wasn't - not only was I too tired to crawl out of bed to write down my ideas, but I decided to challenge myself to remember.

A whole year after my total thyroidectomy I STILL forget that I can't remember! You'd think I would have learned by now.

I tried to stick only to a few simple words that, in the morning, would spark a flurry of more when I was ready to sit down and write. I even allowed myself a title. I had to be firm, because my mind wanted to wander and threatened to keep me up for hours. My fingers itched to type...but the rest of me was like, "Oh HELL no...your ass is staying in bed. Brain and Fingers, knock that shit off and wait until morning." My Body apparently has a potty mouth.

Well...Rest of My Body...see what you did!!

The post that was going to make me famous is now lost, forever. It drifted into the night and wrapped its silky tendrils around somebody else's brain! Who know what they'll do with it!

So, that is how it goes with me. I'm struck by inspiration when least convenient. I know I'm not alone, this happens to practically everyone.

I realize that the quiet, more contemplative times, are the best for developing ideas...I just wish I had them when I wasn't wet - or sleepy. I mean really, my brain spends much of the day empty or engaged in frivolousness - it would be SO much easier to make notes THEN!

I guess my rant is over - because now I cna't think of anythingelse to say.

I will, however, leave you with the beginning of my story. It needs much work and isn't even close to ready to submit to the contest (oh..I forgot to mention that...yes, I'm writing it for a contest). But...I'm sharing it anyway.

Oh...and it's my story. Every bit of it. Not that anyone reading this would steal it, but just in case there is someone out there on the Interwebz looking to be mischievous....know that I'm watching you with very stern eyebrows and pursed lips.

It Was the Chalk's Fault!

Kneeling on the sidewalk, she blinked rapidly trying to focus on the chalk in her hand, thinking that maybe the mean girl next door was throwing boulders at her head again - well, at least, they felt like boulders. She knew they were just rocks from the landscape that divided their territories. She reached up and felt her head for lumps or...oh crap...blood - what if there was blood!? The flood of relief that washed over her when she pulled her fingers away, no trace of red, was beyond words. The sight of blood made her hurl, instantaneous like, giving Mean Girl and her stupid minions even more fuel to taunt and tease her relentlessly at school.

The longer she sat and the harder she stared, the more convinced she became that it was not imagined. No, it wasn’t a dream - she was holding Magic in her hand.

The rainbow drawing stared back at her. She was as almost afraid to touch it again. She could swear her mom said that today would be one of those “scorchers”, which must mean “too damn hot to be outside or move or breathe” in adult speak. But when she place her hand on the rainbow, she felt shimmery inside, like she held the sun in her arms - but she shivered, as if immersed in an ice bath. Totally weird, the kind of weird that screams “run and don’t look back”!! But she couldn't run. She watched as her hand, with a mind of its own, touched the rainbow again- Instantaneously the sweat on her brow dried up and she could swear she saw her breath when she gasped.

Then came the sound, like metal folding and collapsing in on itself (sharp and jagged), a sound that makes your heart run full throttle into your ribs, “Oh, look how cute. She still plays with chalk!”

Mean Girl stood over her, casting a shadow that she could SWEAR sprouted horns from its head and tentacles form its feet. She imagined the bite of Mean Girls condescending tone is what it must feel like to have venom run through your veins.

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