Category: Uncategorized

Finding the Story in the Dream

 

 

I finally found motivation yesterday! It came in the form of a dream, a dream that involved a man I had a crush on, escaping from his hoodlum associates, and gossiping with women I didn’t know. 

 The story I wrote had nothing to do with hoodlums or gossip, but everything to do with crushes and letting them go.  It took interpreting the dream to come up with the connection.

I don’t do Gestalt analysis anymore, where you tell the dream from the perspective of every significant person and object in the dream, mostly because that gets very long and dry. I also don’t think it’s a superior method anymore. Instead, my husband and I reflect together on how each significant scene parallels real life. 

If you are going to do this method, you must be very aware that 1) you are aware of the symbolic aspects of dreams, and 2) many of the aspects of dreams relate to your recent thoughts and experiences. I came across this method of dream analysis when a friend and I noted how my dreams paralleled the events of a full but idyllic day we had spent the day before.

So, this was what came out of the dream: I was looking in on a concert in the next room (crowded, night club) and guy I had a crush on was crowdsurfing right past the window but he wouldn’t look at me. Sounds like an unrequited crush to me.

Then, I’m in a room with crush and I start yelling at him about ignoring me. He listens, denies ignoring me, and then nods, and his henchmen (Eastern European bug guys, buzz cuts, dressed in black) start wrestling me. I break away and walk out. Crush has just had a bachelor party; the henchmen are anologous.

After that I break out and end up in a shopping mall. (No idea of what that’s symbolic of; I’d say finding another crush but I’m married, so it’s not something I’m seeking out although crushes make for great poetry) and run into some women in the bathroom (cleansing oneself?) I gossip about what happened previously.

 So there’s the dream, all about releasing a crush. 

The story I wrote? It’s about a woman who had a two-week fling with Oberon, king of Faerie; it ended abruptly when she asked to go to Faerie and he had to refuse her. When he returns to take her there thirty years later, she surprises him with her answer.

 Same thing, yet so different. That is the power of a dream. 

A Day for Writing

 

 

I am going to push myself into writing today. COVID has made me less inclined to write, as has editing all summer (and I’m still editing Gaia’s Hands) and a general sense of not knowing where to go. But today is a good time to start, because I’m going to have the whole day to myself —

My brain just asked, “Why not sleep? You haven’t gotten a good sleep for a while!” That’s true; my kitten Chloe has been waking me up with these claws-out zoomies across the bed. But I want to feel like I’ve accomplished something — and loading up Tweetdeck with my #PitMad entries two weeks in advance isn’t enough. I need to feel like something is going forward.

I’m struggling between staying at home and going out to the Game Cafe. The former has a too-familiar, uninspiring atmosphere. The latter has everything I need, but I’m afraid of getting overcaffeinated. 

 Tough decision. Hmmm…

But the bigger decision is what I’m going to write.  I would feel better writing a short story right now than writing on Gaia’s Hands because that feels like so much work without reward. I’m not liking it for vague reasons and I don’t know how to fix what I’m not liking. The story right now feels like a bucket that takes endless water to fill.  

 I am wondering if I should free-write to see if there’s a new story in here. My short story plots in the past have included a child trying to get back with her friends, who have been captured by the wee folk; a vampire at a NA meeting.; a woman with bipolar disorder who believes she is the avatar of a wrathful God; a parody of a noir detective story; a story about a woman’s asshole inner child escaping; two buddy stories set in space; a story about cultural differences and a second chance; an immortal who falls in love with an elderly woman and has to learn about death; a few others. 

Maybe I need to stir up my psyche with ideas that turn into stories. These stories have come from visual images I’ve experienced; prompts from contests; dreams; flippant self-inquiry, and character development for novels. 

My dreams lately consist of equipment failure and taking my clothes off in the middle of the hallway at work. And ex-boyfriends wanting to come back with me and telling me I’m the only one. (I don’t believe them.)

  Maybe I’ll try prompts from contests…

Need to get back into writing

 

 

 I need to get back into writing, back into feeling like I’m a writer.

It’s this semester, I know it. It’s been nonstop work and seat of the pants improvisation. It’s been scrambling for a foothold. 

It’s been two days, for God’s sake.

If there’s anyone else having trouble writing, I feel for you. I feel for me. This has been an insane year.

Does anyone have any ideas for short stories? I feel like if I could get a short story written this weekend, I might feel better about the writing thing. Fantasy, light or dark, would work for me. I suppose I could write something on a plain insightful fiction riff, but can’t come up with those myself. 

So, send those prompts in, and hopefully I will be inspired.

Wow, that was disastrous!

 

 

 My first day of class was a technological disaster.

It started with my email program (Outlook) displaying an unredeemable glitch. The program told me there was a corrupted file, let me repair it, and lo and behold — the file was not repaired. And I could not use Outlook. On a day where 20 or more students required my attention.

Then my Zoom link disappeared. So all my students were in a chat room that I couldn’t access. So I sent them a new link and most of them found me.

I was rehearsing what it would be like with Zoom/in-class at the same time, because that well could happen this semester. This required the spiffy new camera and microphone I got yesterday. The setup seemed to work just fine — until I got to the classroom, and then the screen got twitchy, turning itself on and off.

In the morning class, I just about passed out. I think this was an artifact of some vigorous walking, lack of water, and nerves. But I plowed through and got through my first day.

Today I troubleshoot my computer and rehearse with the microphone and camera. Wish me luck.

Needing a little push

 

 

 I’m rethinking my relationship with being a writer.

Is getting published worth it? I’m contemplating not doing #PitMad (a Twitter manuscript pitching contest) on the 3rd of September. It’s hardly anything to set up, but I’m so tired of no nibbles. I’m just tired of trying.

This may be part of a general depressive trend. There’s so much pressing down on me, most of it having to do with going back to work under COVID. There’s nothing I can do except wear that mask, sanitize surfaces, and pray.

This is not the way I want to be. I want to be productive. I want to accomplish something. I want to get published, if only I could figure out how to do that. 

What I can do is just keep doing — keep writing, keep trying to publish, meet with my classes whether in person or online, and have as good a semester as I can manage. Because if I don’t do things, they certainly won’t happen. 

I just need a push to get me going.

Wish me luck (on the verge of a COVID semester)

 

 

 I took a break from this journal yesterday because the beginning of the semester is fast approaching. I got up early this morning fretting about some bit of paperwork I needed to get in before 10 today, and I will spend the morning doing some last minute magic to my course sites. We will be meeting in a blended format, so I will have classes each class day that will keep me in contact with students.

I’m ready. I’m not ready. I’m as ready as I’m going to be. I never feel ready; I just have to plunge in and deal with putting out fires as I go. Like my usual semesters, except with masks, hand sanitizer, appointment-only office hours, surface disinfectant, and the possibility of students bouncing in and out of class as they get sick. No worries.

 This is going to be a hard semester. This will not be business as usual, and I’ve been so stressed for so long already it feels normal. I don’t know what this semester will bring. 

 Wish me luck.

 


With people, there’s always hope

 

 

I just got to the Board Game Cafe, and already I’ve advised an incoming freshman and their mom about some of the features of Maryville. Life is starting to feel back to normal with just that little thing.

We’re practicing social distancing here, and mask wearing (there’s an ordinance in Maryville). 

 There are two girls (probably high schoolers) playing a complex game at one table, and occasional people looking for coffee. 

As for me, I’m writing this blog, and afterward, I’m going to transcribe some of my pen and paper notes and see if I’ve gotten any further with Gaia’s Hands. 

 Maybe there is hope, even though I feel like I have to scream through my mask to be heard, and I don’t know if I’ll get sick, and I don’t know if this pandemic will ever end. But there are still people, and with people there’s always hope. 

The COVID teaching year

 

And now it begins … fall semester under COVID.

I have two meetings today, one over ZOOM and the other socially distanced.  I’ll have one more socially distanced meeting on Monday, and then classes (my new hybrid method) will start next Wednesday.

 I don’t know if I’m ready for this. I will make sure I mask well and use my ethyl alcohol spray and wipe down the tables and meet students over ZOOM unless and until my students all get sick.

I’m usually excited about the beginning of the school year, but there doesn’t seem like there’s much to get excited about. Apprehensive is the better adjective. 

I need to make new rituals to replace the anchoring of the new school year. I didn’t know how much I needed them until they were gone. The beginning of the year picnic, gathering for refreshments before the big meeting, Convocation. The new wardrobe. 

What shall I do? Break in the video camera and microphone? Bring in a stuffed toy? (No, my colleagues won’t take that well) Wear my Bub mask? YES! 

 If I can keep my sense of humor, I think I’ll get through this.

I got my computer back!

 

 

 Finally got my computer replaced.

I updated the system and it didn’t break. 

All my programs work.

I guess miracles do happen 😛

********

My preferred computer is a Microsoft Surface Book because it can go with me pretty much anywhere, and it has a hard keyboard (as opposed to the Surface Pro, which doesn’t work well on one’s lap). 

I have a computer I used when mine was in the shop, and it’s a monster of a Dell gaming machine. It’s impossible to carry around, and there’s a glitch in the sound now for no apparent reason. I got it for graphics, which I explore at times; ironically the new Surface Book for Business with its small form factor outperforms the behemoth in graphics. So all I need is about $2k to upgrade for both. No problem, right? (HA!)

I have my favorite computer back, and it’s good enough. Plenty good enough!