In which I confront crises of faith

Yes, I met with my friend about writing these past couple of weeks. I started to have some crises of faith after the meeting I didn't write about week before last. It's the usual "my story is sounding just like everyone else's" litany my brain gets into. Last week, it was clear that supressing emotion was a major theme in my book. "Just like in The Giver, just like in this, just like in that," said my brain all the way home from the meeting...

My friend is making much more progress. I was thinking about the fact I seem to be pretty good catalyst for other people. But the thing about catalysts is that in the end, in reactions they make good catalysts for, they don't do anything themselves. So then I start pursuing the analogy, and wondering if I'll ever be able to write my own stuff after all. It's easier to help others do the work than to do it myself. Safer, too. Fits in with my "behind the scenes" personality. More crises of faith that I will ever produce anything. Isn't my brain a strange place to be?

So she whipped a little sense into me last night, and I can at least come blog about it. We didn't focus much on my stuff, because, well, I hadn't done anything on it since the previous week. But she tried cracking the friendly whip my way, and maybe I'll have something done when we meet next month. (No meetings for two weeks, due to various vacation-type things.)

I can make up as many excuses as I want, and they'd all be true, but in the end they'd all be excuses. I haven't been writing because I haven't been, pure and simple. The ideas are there. The computer is there. The fingers are there. The time is even there, if I want it, no matter how much I might think otherwise. So what's really holding me back???

In which I have a very strange dream

Well, I didn't meet with my friend last week- we were both sick. I had a killer migraine. So I didn't blog about my lack of progress ;).

But last night I had a very cool dream, and I wanted to get as much of that down as I could while I was still thinking about it. It was the stort of dream you could write a story from!

I dreamt I was the heroine, natch. I had a plucky younger brother, probably about 11. (My family in the dream did not resemble my real family much other than the number of characters in it.) The two of us were kidnapped by a tribe? cult? that worshipped Asoreth, whose statues looked like some cross between Mayan and Egyptian gods. (Note to self: see if there is an Asoreth already in use somewhere) The proper spells at Asoreth's altar acted like magic spells. The worshippers of Asoreth lived in a desert area somewhere in Morocco. My brother and I were being taught the basics of the worship. The main priest, who had Patrick Stewart's voice, was having me learn a ritual for the altar. This was why I'd been kidnapped. My brother was in the way, so they took him too. We both had to do a lot of the grunt work. I was miserable, but my brother was getting into the whole Asoreth bit. As I was learning the ritual, one of the junior priests, named Connor, was teaching me some extra stuff to say during the ritual. He knew the ritual was some sort of sacrafice, and he wanted to save me because he was in love with me. So he taught me the changes to make to turn the ritual into a teleportation spell. Then came the morning of the ritual.

As I went to perform the ritual, I originally intended to transport me, my brother, and Connor back to my home. But I realized that both my brother and Connor were totally commited to Asoreth. I suddenly decided the cult wasn't all that bad, that there were many cool things about it. I also suddenly realized I loved Connor. So I asked to be transported home, but then transported back that evening. At the house, I told my mother all about it. She had not been surprised because I'd been "leaking magic" before I was kidnapped. Food would appear suddenly when I was hungry, that sort of thing. Then I got a phone call from the Patrick Stewart High Priest, and he asked me if I thought I would be happy with my wish this evening. I didn't think he realized I'd added going back to it when he asked, so I thought how surprised he and Connor would be. I told the High Priest that I wasn't sure if I'd be happy, but that I hoped I would be. Then something the High Priest said led me to believe that my wish had magicked Connor into some limbo sort of world. Then he hung up. The whole call had had a magical feel to it, and it made me feel better about going back to know I could call my mother.

I told my mother all about the phone call, and telling her must've been Beauty and the Beast-ish because that's when I woke up. Attempts to go back and finish the dream were, as they usually are, totally futile....