For a Wednesday, I am surprisingly inspired and wanting to write something. Currently, I’m staring at a blank Word document page where I left off on my Doctor Who fanfiction, unsure of where to go from at this point. I’ve just read a couple of Whovian tribute articles from BBC and Vanity Fair, still curious and clueless as to how Clara Oswald bid farewell to life in the Tardis while the Doctor played a “sad song” goodbye on guitar (see above photo from “Hell Bent”).
So far, nothing’s coming to mind.
There’s a song I had in my head since last night when I picked up a library copy of Sounds Like Me: My Life (So Far) in Song, an autobiography of my favorite lady songstress, Sara Bareilles. I practiced singing “Once Upon Another Time” twice that night, reading the lyrics off the first chapter of the book, but right now I still can’t remember all the words. I know I have some DVDs that have to go back to the library this weekend, that I have to return to the “What The Crap” center in January 2016, I’m waiting on a very important phone call, and I want to figure out a way to keep Clara and the 12th Doctor in my story even though the current companion remains a question. And I do want to stay current.
All of my other stories remain on hold for some reason. I’m trying to think of something to write for at least one of them, but nothing comes. All I can think of is designing crochet things and making them, as it is that time of year to break out the hats and scarves for the upcoming winter.
What I wouldn’t give for a crochet hook and a ball of royal blue string… I need to visit A.C. Moore again to stock up on some stuff if I want to sell my little creations, such as the semi finger-less gloves (the thumb is covered but the other fingers are not). Some people on my list are getting those for Christmas.
My arms ache, partially because I had a flu shot yesterday and in part because of the electric hum coursing through my veins. My arms and hands want to strap on those headphones, get out Simone, and start typing away chapter 11 (or “Night Eleven”) of my fanfiction. My morning headache is long gone, but my stomach is feeling a little uneasy, so as to the whole “write with your stomach” advice from writer’s conference speaker Elissa Schappell…
Nope, nothing’s coming. Rrrrrrrr…
Some people call it “procrastination”. Other people call it “the block”, as in writer’s block. And a few people just say, “My dog ate my story,” as opposed to the homework scenario. I’m just waiting for my life to start, in between the holidays of Hanukkah and Christmas, and wondering if anyone will bother to read this post.
There are a number of scenarios I have in mind on how to get myself out there. I could audition for NBC’s The Voice or America’s Got Talent via karaoke night at Costa’s. But that would bring a whole lot of fame, attention and unnecessary qualms from snooty judges and television producers. I don’t want that.
I could start writing something and actually finish a novel that is ready for query letters. This takes too much time and patience. Not only will I get rejected ten different ways all week long, I am my own worst critic, wanting to rewrite and rewrite to profess that “It’s not finished… yet.”
Or maybe, I can start my own crochet business and open an online account to sell hats, scarves, gloves and handbags all 100 percent hand-made. This also requires a load of patience and some experience in accounting and business, calculating profits and how to put a price tag on my products. I’ve never taken a business class and I don’t know the first thing about how much to calculate the charge for labor and trips to the craft store.
Graduation from my office technology program is a little more than seven months away right now. I have no idea what my schedule will look like later or how much time I’ll have to do what I want.
Maybe I need another vacation. Like Mark Twain said, it’s come to that point in majority to pause and reflect.