Fall backwards or forward?
Sunday, November 04, 2007, 9:09 AM
I got up at 9:30 this morning, took my shower, made some coffee and now here I am in front of the computer again. (Feels like I was just here.) I don't know why, but a few minutes ago I noticed my computer's clock in the lower right corner of the screen. It read 9:14. Oh, I thought, I must've read my alarm clock wrong. And woo-hoo, I got up earlier than I thought.
And then I remembered the time change thing. Two years ago in Indiana, we never had to set the clocks forward or back, so I grew up in a nicely consistent stream of time. That's how it should be, no? Only now I'm in California where they change the time twice a year.
I was unsure if the time was going to Fall back or Fall forward. Is it Spring forward? Or Spring back? We had a discussion about this at work and nobody knew for sure. But I think I've figured it out now (until I forget again in the Spring). It must be Fall back and Spring forward.
It amuses me that I still haven't "officially" woken up yet.
1163 words and counting.
My throat is dry from breathing with my mouth open.
I am confuzzled.
Who'da thunk I'd only be a 900-words-a-day kind of writer? (I have to share, though, that my first day of words was nothing but narrative. There was no dialogue. And I only realized that today when one of my characters finally spoke.
"She’s scarred more than I was lead to believe. We’ll have to begin tonight.”
These meager lines of dialogue were written after a Jack Daniels-induced scene about a silver-haired demon wot scared my main character (and me) into the heebie-jeebies.
Hundreds of colors of black poured into her mind, compressing into the figure of a naked, long-limbed female against a plain of white. The creature gasped and the inhalation of air turned the black head into a flesh color. It seemed to become more and more pale with every breath, like the lighter color a cold drink would leave behind in the darker, warmer path of an esophogas.
Stiffening as if in pain, the face turned toward her, devoid of expression because it had no eyes or nose, just an awful, black gaping hole of a mouth that communited hell without words. Silver hair sprouted from the head, growing faster as it grew longer, twining around the body tight enough to make pale skin bulge between the silver lashing of hair, but leaving the breast and pelvic areas exposed. The creature’s eyes opened, black and round with horror. It looked at Shaine without entreaty of help, even while its fingernails dug hard to leave garishly red trails of blood against the nothingness of white. Arching as if in pain, legs stiff and wide apart, pink-tipped breasts bare and unmarred, the creature screamed.
I didn't know I could write like this.
It freaks me out, and I'm not sure what Mom's going to think.
Still, I refuse to pad just to make the word quota, but I will force myself to keep on writing when the words don't want to come.
This is a personal goal and I'll meet it my own way, 700-to-900 words at a time.