In which I enter a trance-like state
Well, I actually did fall asleep at the keyboard last night, and didn't get anything written at all. It's been that kind of week. Been up late working most nights, up early working most mornings, and I just gave out. Slept some last night, will sleep some tonight, but I did want to get the 15 minutes in tonight because I really didn't want to miss three days in a row.
Other than just being brain dead from churning out a ton of junk for work, I'm just tired. Heh. Understatement of the day. So forgive me if I whine a bit more about how tired I am. I actually have to stay up another 20 minutes or so anyway so I can move laundry from washer to dryer. Then try to get me up any time soon. So I'm using that dead time to do this and get it over with.
Wish I had something more exciting to write about. Things have been percolating in the back brain for the NaNo book, but nothing's made it up to my forebrain, which would probably not recognize it anyway.
Was told to write to market today. If you want to be a commericial writer, I guess you have to. But once again, I'm working on the simpler step of just writing to finish something. Can't pitch it if it isn't finished!
Ok, so my brain is finshed. I admit that. So this should be good, because the one time my inner critic really does shut up is when I'm wiped like this. I could put down the worst kind of crap and totally not care. Unfortunately, it is in fact more likely to be the worst kind of crap. The kind you look at after you've had some sleep and think "What the hell was I thinking of when I wrote that??"
It's kind of like sleep deprivation helping out the depression. On the one hand, the chemicals your body pumps out helps the depression. On the other hand, you're too sleep-deprived to care, and the sleep deprivation in the long term doesn't help much.
I hate when I think I have to count the minutes as I go along. So here, I'll describe what's going through my brain right now. Nothing much. Things are pulsing a little because I'm kind of staring vacantly at a mostly white screen. The words are doing the aura thing and pulsing. This effect seems to happen when I stare at anything too long. I can feel my contact lenses kind of floating off my eyes as they start unfocusing slightly. There is a crick in my neck and my shoulder muscles are tense. I am getting sleepy... sleepy.... The place where my legs are crossed pulses too, calling my attention to the contact. My fingers mostly fly of their own accord now, but the pressure from the keys gives me that pulsing thing too if I keep them resting on the keys too long. My elbow shouldn't be resting on the sharp edge of the table- it's probably bad for my arm. I shouldn't have my shoulders clenched like that, so I shift a little. And then I start paying attention to what I'm typing, and force myself not to stall out, but to back into that semi-trance mode and just let the typing take care of itself. My eye starts to sting, probably because of the odd focus and the fact I'm not blinking much. It's feeling dry. I close it and rub it lightly. The book at the edge of the desk starts calling to me. If I stop typing, I can pick it up and read it. Or I can go downstairs and read the new one. I'd really like to be lying flat, relaxing my shoulders, and reading my new book. It's now been fifteen minutes, so I guess I could if only the laundry has finished washing and I can put it in the dryer. If that's done, I can go read until I fall asleep. And that would be bliss.
Other than just being brain dead from churning out a ton of junk for work, I'm just tired. Heh. Understatement of the day. So forgive me if I whine a bit more about how tired I am. I actually have to stay up another 20 minutes or so anyway so I can move laundry from washer to dryer. Then try to get me up any time soon. So I'm using that dead time to do this and get it over with.
Wish I had something more exciting to write about. Things have been percolating in the back brain for the NaNo book, but nothing's made it up to my forebrain, which would probably not recognize it anyway.
Was told to write to market today. If you want to be a commericial writer, I guess you have to. But once again, I'm working on the simpler step of just writing to finish something. Can't pitch it if it isn't finished!
Ok, so my brain is finshed. I admit that. So this should be good, because the one time my inner critic really does shut up is when I'm wiped like this. I could put down the worst kind of crap and totally not care. Unfortunately, it is in fact more likely to be the worst kind of crap. The kind you look at after you've had some sleep and think "What the hell was I thinking of when I wrote that??"
It's kind of like sleep deprivation helping out the depression. On the one hand, the chemicals your body pumps out helps the depression. On the other hand, you're too sleep-deprived to care, and the sleep deprivation in the long term doesn't help much.
I hate when I think I have to count the minutes as I go along. So here, I'll describe what's going through my brain right now. Nothing much. Things are pulsing a little because I'm kind of staring vacantly at a mostly white screen. The words are doing the aura thing and pulsing. This effect seems to happen when I stare at anything too long. I can feel my contact lenses kind of floating off my eyes as they start unfocusing slightly. There is a crick in my neck and my shoulder muscles are tense. I am getting sleepy... sleepy.... The place where my legs are crossed pulses too, calling my attention to the contact. My fingers mostly fly of their own accord now, but the pressure from the keys gives me that pulsing thing too if I keep them resting on the keys too long. My elbow shouldn't be resting on the sharp edge of the table- it's probably bad for my arm. I shouldn't have my shoulders clenched like that, so I shift a little. And then I start paying attention to what I'm typing, and force myself not to stall out, but to back into that semi-trance mode and just let the typing take care of itself. My eye starts to sting, probably because of the odd focus and the fact I'm not blinking much. It's feeling dry. I close it and rub it lightly. The book at the edge of the desk starts calling to me. If I stop typing, I can pick it up and read it. Or I can go downstairs and read the new one. I'd really like to be lying flat, relaxing my shoulders, and reading my new book. It's now been fifteen minutes, so I guess I could if only the laundry has finished washing and I can put it in the dryer. If that's done, I can go read until I fall asleep. And that would be bliss.
posted by BlogShy | 8:19 PM
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