These Boots Were Made For Walking

MocassinWalk, originally uploaded by carolWorldLeader.

“…And that’s just what they’ll do….”

It’s been a little crazy lately and I’m feeling a bit “under” it all. My ‘fridge broke and I need to call the repair guy who wants some information so he can buy a part (or something) I haven’t been writing damn near enough to finish off my nanowrimo novella yet, and I’ve started looking at, actually drooling over, laptops.

What’s really happened to me is that, I have some great ideas for the novella. So great, that I want to type non-stop. I want to turn myself into a lean, mean, verbiage machine. But, I don’t have anything to type into. And this is frustrating me. I want to type, I sit there thinking about typing, I dream about typing, my fingers flying over ghost keyboards floating out into space, but, alas, no keys, man, no keys.

My computer lives at home, you see. And I travel about in my day (and night) so I seldom sit down at it. I go to work, I go out, I go here, I go there. All the while, secretly wishing I had a place to type. Some quite time to jot down my ideas and bring my characters to life. And they are great characters, believe me. You would not believe the wild sordid lot I’m writing about this time. But, no, I have nothing because my fingers sit and wiggle at pure emptiness. So, day after day, night after night, I stop and think, “I got nothing.” Not because I can’t write, not because I can’t put pencil to paper, or make up some crazy ass story about some guy who got a flat tire and now finds himself in the wilds of Mexico sipping cactus juice, looking at the stars and night, and whistling Dixie, no, I can’t write simply because I can’t start writing. I can’t get my groove going. My fingers don’t want to move but my mind’s working overtime. And it’s frustrating.

I started looking at laptops and one of the women I work with came by and laughed at me. She said hers cost $2500 and I was like, “Um, I want to spend about $600.” She said, “you start looking at the cheap one and think, yeah, that’ll do. But then you look and you see that, ‘oh, this will cost only $100 more’ and, before you know it, the price is up there.” She’s right. I started low, the price started creeping up, and now I will probably end up not getting one at all. But I have to drool, right? And throwing technology at my “finger’s block” is sure to solve it, right?

This is a new one on me. Instead of writing, I sit her drooling over the “pencil” I wish I had.

Until next time…

# of words: single digits (well, ok, the 1500 still stands, I guess)
# of penguins: down to 2 (4 was way too high. No self-absorbed fetish neo-goth rock star would ever keep 4 penguins in his basement. What was I thinking?)
# of coffee drinks: 2
# of Christmas Muzzies: up to about 5 (and every day brings more.)
# of times I’ve written myself into my novella: 0 (well, there’s still that. Hope springs eternal! Bah, even I have standards.)
# of times I’ve spec’d out a laptop and not actually bought one, because I looked at the price and went, “Ugh!”: 3



  1. CraftyGuy
    November 9, 2006 / 5:26 pm

    I would suggest dictating into a recorder of somesort, but if it were me, the thought of having to hear my voice played back would kill off any creative energy I would otherwise have.

    Talk about scaring off your muse! 🙂

  2. Carol
    November 9, 2006 / 11:29 pm

    It’s hopeless. I’m doomed. Doomed, I tell you.

    Next time you see somebody walking down the street, with his head down, tolling a bell, chanting, “bring out your dead…” why, you can think of me and smile.

    Or, like, maybe not.

    (But thanks for the suggestion anyhow!)

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *