Aftermath of a Brain Fart
So here I sit reflecting on what I’ve just accomplished, nothing, zilch, zip, noda. Well, that’s not fair. I got two paragraphs down that makes absolutely no sense, a short string of gibberish that’s taken me only two days.
I’ve got the plot, the characters, and the locations. I’ve got it all but seem to have lost the ability to transfer this incredibly good story from the working cells I have left in my brain to the correct keys on this lap top. I call this a brain fart. I hate this ugly, burgundy colored lap top. I hate windows 10.
What’s the problem I ask myself? Maybe I’m being to critical of my own words? Move this word here, change this word, swap this sentence. Oh, and there’s another word that maybe I should not be using at all. Will anyone even know what it means?
Let’s take a break, again, and rest the ole noggin. Maybe when I come back the words will begin to flow. Cool, clear, water down a beautiful mountain stream kind of flow instead of the I have a headache, my cup of coffee is cold, and my better half is mad that I’m still downstairs on the lap top kind of flow.
I do the math in my head, two paragraphs in two days towards a book I expect to be somewhere around 100,000 words. Let’s see now, 2 paragraphs at roughly 70 words each equals 140 words, divided into 100,000 equals roughly 7,200. 7,200 times 2 days’ equals 14,400 days. 14,400 divided by 365 equals just a tad over 39 years. I’m 58 years old, I don’t think I’m gonna make it.
It’s taken me about 15 minutes to write this little rant and it’s over 350 words. I suppose I feel better now for this accomplishment but if I go upstairs I can be feeling much better still, getting some needed sympathy and petting from the other I love.
5 minutes later and here I am back at the ugly, burgundy colored laptop. I was told by the other I love… “20 minutes ago you could have been petted and loved to your hearts content. I’m tired now, why don’t you go back downstairs and pet that damn lap top”.