Everything All The Time

In The Daily Drool on November 2, 2009 at 10:49 am

Sometimes I fear that my brain will go marching onward without me… You see, I have all these stories lined up along the corridors of my mind, and I check in with them, listening to their thoughts and new ideas, while they wait for me to get my shit together and some projects finished, so I can get started putting pen to paper for them.

I visit with these stories, I take notes, I keep a folder for just such phantoms – I try to let them know how much I appreciate their patience, they are all so beautiful and exciting that I want to wrap myself in all their colors and just write until they’ve all been heard… but they’re not paying the bills yet, so they get the Muzak while they wait for this little writer to find more time… it’s always about time.

Sometimes I wonder if this is the “Rags” part of my “Riches” story.  The part in the bio that reads “But things weren’t always easy for Tiffany- in 2009 she lost her job, her apartment, and almost her mind.  Lucky for her, a little known script she had been floating around finally made it into the right hands”  And I will talk about how scary it all was, how I almost had to move back home because I couldn’t get  full-time gig, and how fortunate it was that I had broken up with the idiot writer I was dating because it was shortly after that my Super-Handsome-and-Gainfully-Employed-Husband came along to sweep me off my feet…


Then I shake my head and remind myself that this is just an inexplicably unpleasant period in time for a lot of people, and  that no matter how much I want it to be the tail end of the “Rough”, there’s no way to know.

And the stories in my head suffer because I spend too much time fretting over not-jobs and trying to get a job, that I don’t have as much time to devote to the lovely tales.  It’s driving me crazy!

And I wonder, if other writers feel like this- the stories almost suffocating you with their collective enthusiasm- your want to get them down on paper almost suffocating you with its passion- and your humanization of the thougths in your head seeming odd enough that you should probably not be blabbing about it all over the interweb… But I’ve got to know.  I’ve got to know how you keep them happy when your life is on hold… Do you move out of the apartment you are scrambling to afford, move home with your parents and immerse yourself in the stories?  Or do you try to keep them appeased while you apply for job after job after 9-5 job?

Because the guilt is unsettling, the anxiety over my lack of quality writing time is maddening, and I’m so damn tired of not-having money for basic things, that I am considering becoming a wandering gypsy.  Perhaps a VW van and some colorful scarves parked down on Venice Beach isn’t such a bad idea after all…


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