It's like paying for a gym membership. You have it. You're being automatically deducted for it from your bank account. You get your tub of lard butt to the gym and then you sit there on the steps debating whether or not to go in and get on the treadmill or go across the street to Starbucks and order a double expresso latte in a venti cup and hmm...that new death by chocolate slice of cake would go really good with that too. Then you remember just how much you're paying for the membership and just how big your butt is and you tell yourself "I'll go in, work out for 45 minutes, and then walk across the street and order a non-fat tall latte and get out quick before my eye sees the cake."
It's the same thing with this blog. I've got it. I am paying for it in a way because it's on my mind everyday and it's a great workout for my writing muscles. Which if I don't flex and use everyday then I have no right to call myself a writer. Number of poems written this week = 6. Number of pages written on my novel = 0. It's a great idea but right now it's absolutely dead in the water. Like the girl in the story who was found dead and pulled from a river. No one knows who she is. And my heroine is the one who is going to solve the mystery of it all but I have no idea how she's going to do it. The truth is my heroine is just not sure what the hell she's even doing in the story. So far she's stuck at a cemetery having found the tomb of the unknown drowned girl and now she's just waiting around for me to tell her where to go next. It's like she's calling out to me and saying "Hey, creator, get me out of this creepy cemetery will you? It's freaking me out." But where to send her next? What does she want? You see I have no idea what her desires are. She's single, she's lonely, she feels no one takes her seriously, and she's trying to prove herself. So I suppose she wants a boyfriend, she wants to advance her career, and she wants people to see she actually can write and not just junk-mail. Start with desire. That's always a good thing. What does she want? A career to write home about.
Brainflash! It's starting to come together. A tiny spark. That's what these things are good for. Venting and trying to figure out what comes next. Bravo, I think I can get on with it now.