On Dreaming (#10)

I want to write so many things, share so many thoughts, unravel so many riddles that plague my mind. For the moment, I am weighed down by three nights of merriment, and anchored to a comfortable recliner. I should be searching for relief from this bloating. Or a dark recess of my house in which to crawl and hibernate away the rest of this winter. Instead, pushing through the drumming of blood rushing throughout my body, aiding in much needed digestion, I type away.

In this post-holiday induced haze, I decided to write about some recent dreams. That forced me to discover the last time I shared images from my unconscious realm. May 16, 2021. That is a long time, with many dreams. Well, I read through that old post, and discovered a few things. First, it began with some half-hearted pledge to write book reviews (oh well, maybe in the new year). Second, I provided details about several vivid dreams, all of which showcased inner turmoil, including one that ended in my death. Finally, the first one I described, combined a post-apocalyptic setting, a school, and my departure from teaching. The two recent dreams that I am going to lay out involve a school. But one is set in a post-apocalyptic world, while, in the other, I am not a teacher.

(I love the original. It is beautiful and charming. Every few years, I sit down and watch it. Tried to sit through the remake. Not a fan.)

A Brief Interlude (#16)

For those who were not paying attention, I skipped last week's blog post (for those who were, thank you for noticing!). Something came up, but I cannot remember now. Maybe it was fatigue. Or perhaps disinterest. I know it was not anything serious. But, I am back. Not in full force. Not yet, at least. Christmas is only six days away, and I have a lot to accomplish.

Yet, I want to post something today, so I do not lose my way. So, here goes.

(This time it will be different. This time she won't take the ball away from me. This time I will actually get to kick it. And show the world what I can really achieve.) 

On This Thing Called Writing (#5)

Draft a 50,000 word novel within the month of November. That was the challenge I decided to undertake. For me, it was less about an end product, than about the process. Namely, sitting down each day and reaching a minimum goal of 1,700 words. There were at least six days when I failed. Three of them during the last full week. However, on most days, I exceeded my goal by a couple of hundred words. One day, I even reached 4,000. And during the last two days, I wrote about 2,300 and 3,600 words respectively, in order to cross the finish line. 

I am proud of this accomplishment.

Despite the fact that few, if any, of those words will ever see the light of day.

(Snoopy's prize winning decorated dog house is a stand in for published authors and their novels. You can probably guess who Charlie Brown is and what his special tree represent--in case you can't, it is me and my writing.)