Yesterday, I was like a kid waiting for Christmas. Jittery and giddy and talkative and not exactly centered. I went to get my haircut at 11:15 but my appointment was for 2pm, so I went to thrift stores and I bought chiffon scarves. I'm not sure why but they seemed like they would be good writing totems. And I found this wonderful sheer blue shirt with gray whales on it. It is silky and flowing and falls to my knees and without a doubt it is the perfect shirt to inspire something. I also bought a pair of black pedal pushers with small green frogs embroidered on them. I went to Staples and bought a purple and pink plastic calculator and a bunch of half-sized colored gel pens and a package of 20 of my favorite pens. I don't need pens. I have drawers full of them and so does Cindy, but I do need a calculator so I don't have to walk to Cindy's office and get hers when I want to calculate something. Then I went home and washed the scarves and hung them to dry before going back to town for my haircut and yoga class.
After dinner, I called Rex for a list of hip-hop, rap, and alternative music. His list included Blink-182, Afroman, 2Pac, and about four others. I downloaded about 15 songs from ITunes and was listening to this stuff, trying to get into character with Memo and Curtis--two guys who star in my novel-- while Cindy wore her black cat hat and passed out candy to the trick-or-treaters. I listened to 2Pac sing "Dear Mama" and hung chiffon scarves around my office. After Cindy came and frowned at me because the music was so raucous, I turned it off and tidied my desk and got everything ready for morning. It was getting late but I wasn't sleepy, so I read my mystery and drank peppermint tea and ate toast, and it got to be 11:30 and though I wasn't sleepy yet I went to bed anyway. When Cindy came to bed at 1:30 and I still wasn't asleep, she said I could get up and start because it was Nov. 1. But I didn't.
I got up at 5:30 -- a half hour after I planned. I had a sore throat and felt hung-over. I washed my face, made tea, and put on my whale shirt. I opened a word doc and typed "Memo Goes Missing" at the top. And then I stared at the screen. In the past week, I have thought of at least 10 opening lines for my novel, but I stared at the screen and couldn't think of one word to start. A fly landed on the white screen. I watched it walk across the back lit page. At 5:48, I typed the first word. At 7:36, I had 1700 words (the daily quota being 1667) and I had to pee really bad.
I promise to not read one word of what I wrote when I get back to the page. GO AWAY Internal Editor. I don't want to see your scowling face for 29 more days!!!