Last night, something rather wonderful happened – I couldn’t sleep.
Normally this is the most frustrating of all experiences that often come back time and time again, but for some unknown reason last night, my brain went beserk. In a good way of course! Rather than letting me lay there in bed for hour upon hour, snuggled up in my white duvet cover, I climbed out of bed at three in the morning. The big headphones came out of the computer desk draw and were wrapped round my head. The music of the night was some of the latest ‘pop’ songs, the volume high.
The dirty dishes were conquered and then I grabbed every single piece of paper across my flat and sat down in the centre of the living room, a bombsite of paper littered round me. Piles began to take form – paper related to writing, paper related to my roleplaying hobby, paper relating to work (I don’t even know how that got there), on the side commissions taken to keep my twitching fingers busy, random notes from feeding my curious brain from Google searches… Soon it was all neatly filed and tucked away, and the draws of the computer desk were tackled next.
Leaving me, for the first time in about two weeks, a cleanish flat. Of course there is still the hovering to do and a few other bits and pieces (cleaning never does stop, does it fellow ladies?) but for the first time in two weeks I could breathe. In a good way. Don’t worry, I haven’t been suffocating for two weeks! No, merely with the flat reorganised and tidied up, I could once again write.
And write I did!
Normally the amount I wrote would annoy me, remembering times past when twenty pages at one sitting was the standard, but last night was different. Not only did I settle down to write, but I wrote once again by hand, and conjured up two pages. Thanks to my latest reading preferences, it was in first person for a nice change, and this seemed to help. I’ve noticed that books and my own writing, whilst in first person, do not have as much description and stuff going on. I love a good bit of description so long as it doesn’t bog down the story, but in some ways it was like throwing off the shackles. Instead, I could focus on what my character was thinking as she sat opposite her ex-husband and apologised for being an utter ass to him the year of their divorce. I could see how well she can read him, how well she knows him, simply by noticing the glazed eyes from lack of sleep, knowing how to slowly draw him out of a zombie-like sleep deprived state to get him talking about the things he couldn’t talk to anyone else about for fear they would betray him.
It brought a smile to me. The writer, it would appear, is back!