Today’s supposed to be a free write, but I am getting pretty distracted. Heh, actually, if you see most of the free writes in my journal, you’d think admitting this fact is a pre-requisite to getting started. Oh my gosh, my comp is playing an embarrassingly sensual song at the moment, and if I want to stay true to the free write, I can’t change it. Why in the heck does my kitchen smell like cantaloupe?
Oh dear. It’s hard to write when I’m laughing. And yes, I am one of those people who says “LOL” and means it. A fact that some of my friends on Skype have noted to me more than once. ‘sigh’ Whatever, I like it. And I want a piece of toast. I can smell it, plus that bizarre cantaloupe smell. Seriously, it’s been weeks since I had a cantaloupe. Yeah, I am slacking a little in pacing, so this isn’t a true free write. You can dock points later. The point is to go until…well, you know, I don’t put a time scheme on these things. It’s until I’m drying up or until my hands say, “I’m spasming. Cut it out.” Just might get there in a few seconds.
I confess, I “broke” the free write. It had to happen. Blah blah blah for no other reason but to get my mind and my fingers back into a rhythm. It’s just funny how the pattern of keys and clicking and up and down has an addictive quality. It’s something I almost long to feel when I’m writing my stories, better than fingers in the corner of my mouth, which indicate uncertainty, pause and consideration. But better than the smooth music of typing is the wonderful, “Aha!” that comes after pondering what in the heck to do next. Okay, now I’m realizing sometimes those fingers in the corner of my mouth are actually fingers playing with my bangs. It’s such a subconscious reaction; so often I’m not even aware I’m doing it. Soothing, I suppose.