…stay up until 5 AM on the first of the month/year, thereby effing up my sleep schedule for the duration of the next few days and prompting me to walk around in an everlasting state of delirium.
I’ll tell you what happens. I start listening to the voices in my head.
If you’ve ever written anything, you’d better know what I’m talking about, because if you don’t, I’m just going to feel self-conscious about myself in general and probably go fetal on a bed in a room with no windows. Actually I probably won’t, because I already have a long list of my unresolvable issues. But just to be sure, just smile and nod. Okay? Awesome.
Yeah, so, voices in my head. I have the same problems that any other writer has; I constantly have stories bouncing around in my brain. I don’t always jot them down, but they’re always there. How do I explain this? Okay, here: like a mom’s children are always somewhere on her mind, back or front, a writer is always thinking of ways to tell a new story. Or better yet, how to make an old story new.
Over my past few days of total exhaustion, story ideas have been popping up in my head more frequently than they normally do. I can’t even tell you how annoying it is. I already have two projects going—one is a play I’ve sort of abandoned, but Privateer is still going strong—but my brain doesn’t seem to think that’s enough. These $!%&-ing stories are actually keeping me up at night. I just sort of sit there in bed and stare at the ceiling, plotting out an entire novel while simultaneously hating myself for it.
If that’s not bad enough, today I go on Figment.com, and I see that they’re having a short story contest called Pretty Little Secrets, in which one writes a story about a group that has a secret using no more than 1,500 words. And *click*, goes my brain. Instantly, I’ve got a setting, a main character, and a conflict.
Eff. My. Life.
The contest is open until January 16, but I want to sit down and write it right now. Like, I have fourteen tabs open on this browser from researching my setting and topic. And now I’m writing a blog post. WTF IS WRONG WITH ME TELL ME NOW RIGHT NOW PLEASE I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE.
There it goes. Officially lost it.
In other news, I’ve actually been writing over this break and Privateer is now a 38,534-word draft. Beautiful.
Also, turns out that 5 AM is not a healthy bedtime. No, really. Who knew, right?
Also also, if you’re a writer, check out this amaze-balls site. Because you will so relate. To EVERYTHING: http://fyeahwriterleopard.tumblr.com/
I mean, like, look at this. Does this not describe everything I just said?