So there I was right, I set the mood for some crazy-ass writing, I had dinner early, we waited for the birthday girl to come. I fired up little man George, sat beside the food to ward off roaches, and started typing.
I got us far as the part where I remembered writing the last time, but after that I forgot how the story was supposed to go. I feel hurt that way because I thought I knew this Story inside out.
I could pretend I didn't care what happens next. I can go right ahead and take out the log file and write the next frikking scene.
But from where do you write the next scene? From which vantage point, from which changed creation, from which new realization?
You can't skip scenes--not really. If there must be pain, feel it. If there must be joy, savor it. And then write the next scene.
Maybe my mind wandered.
None of this is working: not the breathing exercises in the morning, not the daydreaming, not the stories I tell myself about that better place.
But there is no giving up. Not with me. Not with this story.