I'm so pleased I was contacted and asked to share this call for those that are successful in the writing industry. Chad Carver is a personal friend and a highly respected colleague. He's one of the driving forces behind Kristen Lamb's WANA International community for writers, bloggers, and authors. And I couldn't be happier to share this opportunity with ya'll.
I’ve come to the conclusion that my
head is a scary place to be, mainly because I think my brain is out to get me.
I’m pretty sure of this, too. I’m sure those of you reading this know exactly
what I’m talking about. Those moments when you think about something and you
can’t let it go or you’re writing a scene to your short story or novel and
you’re so far into it that you feel as though you’re the one it’s actually
happening to. It seems to happen most when I’m writing a particularly horrible
scene---like a death, an argument that spirals out of control, physical
violence, that sort of thing. And when I finally remember to breathe and push
away from the computer, I realize that I’m still stuck in some dark place and I can’t get out. I float around in a
daze, brain-numb and off-kilter, as if I’m caught in some weird
half-awake/half-asleep limbo. It makes me wonder if that’s why there’s such a
heavy association between writers and booze. I mean, writers can either use
booze as a shield or a catalyst for that dark place. Me, personally, I’ve tried
writing while drinking (or drinking while
writing) and I can’t concentrate.
At all.
But
even when I’m not writing or drinking, my brain is still lying in wait for me. Case
in point:
My mom and I were bridal-shower-shopping
at the mall. We made the decision to split up---she went to Boscov’s and I went
to JCPenney’s. We actually do this a lot; it makes the chore of shopping a
little less like a torture device. The sooner it’s over, the better off we are.
So as we went our separate ways, we agreed
to meet back at Boscov’s in an hour, by the downstairs escalators.
An hour of painful shopping ensued
until finally, finally , the hour to
meet up was near. I arrived at our rendezvous. I didn’t see my mom anywhere so
I waited, thinking that she probably got hung up in the purse department, which
she has a habit of doing. (Truthfully,
those purses are as bad as my brain when it comes to ensnaring.)
Minutes ticked by. Then more minutes
as I waited and waited.
And waited some more.
Thirty
minutes went by before I called her cell phone.
“Where are you?” I demanded with
barely restrained annoyance.
“Where do you think? I’m by the escalators,”
Mom said, indignantly. “Where are you?”
“I’m at the escalators too!”
“No, you’re not!”
“Ma, I’m at the escalators in Boscov’s
and I don’t see you anywhere.”
“Dear,” she said pointedly, her tone
matching mine. “If we’re in the same place how could we not be seeing each
other?”
“I have no freaking idea,” I began to
snap as I looked up.
My
brain short-circuited out.
The signs hanging above my head…
The bags that the shoppers carried as
they jostled around me…
They all had a big red star on
them.
My
jaw dropped to my feet. “Oh my God,” I murmured.
“What?”
“I’m in Macy’s.”
“Macy’s? How the hell did you end up
there?”
I
slapped a hand to my forehead. “I thought I was in Boscov’s.”
I
walked out of the Macy’s with my mother’s hysterical laughter ringing in my
ears.
Oh yes.
My brain?
Has a target on my back.
Hahaha! You are hilarious Melissa. While I'm no drinker I am sometimes absent minded and easily distracted when invested my brain isn't tethered. Thank you so much for having the gumption to share that.
