I’m just not feeling it lately. Writing. Reading. Watching movies. It’s November Brovember and I still haven’t watched that many bromantic flicks. Reading is becoming a chore. Writing is riddled with road blocks. I sit in my room just contemplating the next step and I’m drawing blanks. And it’s not depression because the last few …
I’m a book addict. I buy books even when I’m not without anything to read. This coming Wednesday, Monica and I will hang out before my shift at the library (for puppet show reasons, every last Wednesday of the month I work the evening shift). This usually means a visit to Barnes and Noble. And I can feel the itch. Last week, going against my wishes, I purchased the follow up to Shannon Messenger’s Keeper of the Lost Cities, Exile. Last night, after feeling lower than sludge, I bought the first season of The Walking Dead on DVD (being 50% off plus my 10% membership discount plus my 15% off coupon). I spend my feelings, though it brings me more joy to spend for others than myself (usually the guilt gets to me). That said, I purchased Shaun six t-shirts.
I took one of my composition books off the shelf and started jotting down ideas for my NaNoWriMo project. All I’ll say is that it’s a love story without a tragic ending that I’m known for. Swearing will probably be kept to a minimum, and it will throw two strangers on an adventure that will change the course of their history. Well, that’s what I’m aiming for but usually my stories get away from me.
While this funk of ennui I find myself in isn’t helping, it’s not deterring me from seeing this through. Maybe not 50k words (which is the measure of success for the website and movement, but I find it utter bullshit for pretentious neophytes and should-never-have-beens). Even if I have to sit at my computer for longer periods until I’m over-saturated from every love story cliche from the brat pack to Taylor Swift, I will make sure that this project is completed so that I can torture a few of my friends with it. I most definitely will push the cray button on this shit.
I’m stuck. My best frenemy forever, Eddie, issued out a challenge—well, a commanding obligation—that I partake in NaNoWriMo with him. I tried this once in the past, but my writing habits wouldn’t get me 50k words in a year, let alone a month. I couldn’t remember my account information and the e-mail I used was …
Chapin City Blues 