I got really excited when I started feeling better, and I raised my sunglasses in the darkened bedroom. It wasn't bad. Then, boom! Pain, pain, pain. Closed right eye. Think of new title for journal entry. How about Live with a Defective Head? That sums me up in so many ways.
I sent John an email while I ate my less-than-mediocre soup for lunch, asking for access to his band's blog so I can post entries. I wasn't sure if he woud agree to it because I can be too honest sometimes, and I wasn't sure if he wanted to stray from his self-promotional precedent. I criticized his blogging attempts thus far, telling him it sounded like an ad. Sure, a blog can be whatever the heck you want, but when I read a band or celebrity blog, I want to see something more inside, not where they are going to play next with time and date. He improved some, but it lacked that little extra. Who knows if what I do will be any more interesting to anyone, but being so wonderful and important as I am, I think it will be.
John gave me the OK, and he will set it up this evening. The only catch is I gave him editorial power. So he can cut out all my bitchy criticixms and probably anything that will make thing interesting. He is the Pollyanna of the band without question. I can always browbeat him into leaving what I write alone, but I like to save that power for the really important things. Like washing the damn dishes. We shall see how this experiment turns out. The last thing John and I need is another subject about which to fight. So if it comes to argument, I will easily concede.
I still don't know where I want to go with the most recent story I started. I think I may let it rest a while. I could use a muse right now, or whatever you call a girl version of a muse, if there is one. You'd think I'd know. I may try to go back to my Nanowrimo idea. I trashed everything I wrote for that. All 50,000 words. I hated it. Hated. It. I hate even thinking about it right now. Ech.
I razzed John about writing yesterday. His brother told me to give him a hard time about mixing songs when he should be writing. "Do what pays the bills," he said. When I told John that, he responded, "That's not paying anything yet."
I let myself get too excited about all the possibilities. Things do look hopeful, but the simple truth is nothing has happened. Nothing may ever happen. I have been reserved, but I did cross over into expectation, meaning I believe there is going to be income from this. I never let myself think big money, but i have been thinking money. So I'm pulling back again and assuming how it is now is what to expect and hope, not plan on better.
In the meantime, I think John should start writing. He has a great idea he started but hasn't continued. I told him if he writes the screenplay, I'll write the book. I was joking, but he was totally serious and said, "Start it now." He has twenty pages written, and I could get going on the book. I blew it off. I think I managed to cover my shock. I played with the idea of writing books from their better movie ideas, but I never though of doing it now. Until John opened that door. So I may go ahead and see what I can do. I'd rather have a completed script, but maybe I'll inspire him to get moving if I go ahead. I would like to see his twenty pages first though.
My feet are still freezing. I even put on socks.
I should take a writing class. Even something at CCAC to get me rolling.
I'm going to find that bit I started about my grandpa's ghost and try to move on with it.
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One Year Ago Today:
