6:00 PM: I lay on my stomach, staring at my screenplay, wondering a) why the hell I was doing this writing thing and b) why it took me an hour to write one page about my protagonist making a dish of chicken marsala.
I'm not a writer, I think to myself as I rest my head on my folded arms, yearning for the energy to accomplish things. Writers actually give a fuck about what they're writing.
8:00 PM: I halfheartedly turn away from the opening paragraphs of my novel to watch Firefly. But I can't stop rushing back to the computer during commercial breaks. I can't hold back this energy.
I really enjoy these Tips and Strategies from Headquarters. Especially since earlier today, I went ahead with Point #2 unknowingly by completely scrapping my original planned idea and instead beginning to write the big, monstrous, vaguely autobiographical Ugly Friend idea.
Current Word Count: 2358. Which puts me somewhat ahead. If I can do 10,000 words by Sunday, I'll be sittin' pretty.
This is so surreal. I have new scenes in mind. New ways to fictionalize the real and realize the fictional - I just want to keep writing and writing, even though it is most definitely bedtime for me and I am due for some hay-hitting.
I'd forgotten this feeling, this real, genuine desire to create. I wonder what happened to make it go away?
For tonight, at least, I'm so glad I decided to try NaNoWriMo. We'll see what tomorrow holds.