Despite my last post, lately I've felt the need to write... something. Unfortunately, when I push myself like that -- and I'm not saying that pushing yourself to write every day doesn't work for lots of others, just not for me -- anyway, when I push myself like that, I tend to write crappy stuff, or at least it feels crappy to me.
I've been sick this past few days, and stayed home. Understand I have to feel really bad to stay home. My motto is that if I feel bad, I may as well go to work. You know, work sucks, so no need to feel good when I go there. Oh, and if you haven't noticed, I get whiny when I'm sick. OMG, my life is so hard. BlahBlahBlah. I'm even annoying myself with the whining. I'm starting to remind myself of my ex-husband.
So all afternoon, in the back of my mind was the thought that I could at least write something. Yes, write something even though my throat feels like an electric sander remodeled my breathing passages and my nose feels like it weights twenty pounds. Write something when I feel crappy, sure, that'll work.
What I ended up with was a synopsis of the story, but no visceral details, no flowery descriptions, no voice (funny, because I've almost lost my voice physically). It's hard for me to write so succinctly. If it can be said with five words, I can say it with fifty. But I ended up with an outline. He did this... She did that... He said... She did something else... Boring, even to me, and I wrote it.
I know that I can use what I wrote, but I'll need to go back and layer in all the good stuff, all the stuff essential to make an outline a story.
So with that said, I'm going back to writing crappy prose. Hopefully, in the very near future, I can put a silk dress on this pig. Actually as bad as I feel about it, make-up and a pair of stilettos may be required.