Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Remember when . . .

. . . I felt good about writing 1,000 words a day.

I did that today, around 1,100 all new, filling in a gap in my story, plus some tinkering. That should feel good. When I'm actually working I feel really good. The rest of the time, I'm stressing myself out. Pat on the back. I still have six whole days to draft my novel. It doesn't have to be -- WON'T BE -- perfect this go round.

I mean, it won't be perfect ever, but a girl can dream. Or, is it all perfect, because it is exactly what it is at this be-here-now moment, and how could it be otherwise? This is how my brain is working today, so I'm shutting it off for the night.

I'm making wild rice for tomorrow. And catching up on Top Chef while I cook. And after waking up early to write and lesson plan, I took a break this afternoon to see Tim Supple's Indian and Sri Lankan Midsummer Night's Dream at Chicago Shakespeare Theater. Pretty.

You know that thing called inspiration that's supposed to be good for a fried brain. This was that.

The actors sang and danced and drummed after their curtain call, inviting the audience to join them, which is how I wish every play could end.

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