from January 21, 2017
Last night was one of those nights. Fell awake around 3:00, finally decided to quit fighting it around 3:30. I made a cup of tea and sat down in front of the computer. My imaginary friend, Heather, has been stuck in a waffle house for a few days now. I’m sure she wishes I’d get her out of there.
So at 3:30, I was going to make something happen.
4:00, and she was still there. I had managed to go back and tweak a few things, made a couple of sentences better. But I was still blocked.
Maybe this is the end. Maybe Heather never gets out of the waffle house. Maybe nobody cares what happens to her.
I’m 10,000 words in. Not that much, really, in word count. I’ve abandoned novels at 40,000 words. Except that I’ve taken my time with these words, tried to write them better as I go. So it would be disheartening to pull the plug.
There’s a mother and a kid – a screaming kid – in the waffle house, too. At first, the mother was sitting with her back to Heather. I rearranged the furniture. Now they’re sitting beside Heather, facing each other, so that when Heather hears the kid scream and turns to look, she makes eye contact with the mother. It was an uncomfortable moment.
And then. And then. And then.
At 5:00, Heather was still in the waffle house. But things had changed dramatically. I was unstuck. I went to bed. I still couldn’t sleep, but it was a more restful insomnia.
Lesson 1: Maybe insomnia has a reason.
Lesson 2: Sometimes you just need to rearrange the furniture.
Lesson 3: Sometimes being uncomfortable is good.