So, it's Monday, and we've all been given another stab at making a go at a successful week. That's about the only good thing about Monday's actually. That, and Third Watch.
I got a brief mention in Fletcher's diary today, which kind of makes me feel all popular and noticed. Joy abounds. (I really need to get out more, don't I?)
Yesterday was spent in a furious writing spree that lasted for hours and hours. I totally killed a brand new pen, which gave me an unbelievable sense of accomplishment. Do you know how much scribbling has to be done before you can use up a pen in one go? I gotta tell you, even if I didn't finish the story, the sense of completion that comes with draining a pen dry is immense. And the best part is that hours after I read over my 20-odd pages of scribbles, I still wanted to keep writing. I didn't feel dejected and disappointed with the skeleton of plot I had put to paper. That doesn't happen often, you know. I'm my own worst critic, a sorry excuse I use to not complete anything I start. God, upon further reflection, I actually can't wait to get back to it. My mind is spinning, the ideas are still flowing, and the fact that I have to devote my brain to tasks here at work is frustrating.
I kind of like this feeling, though. In a weird way, it gives me hope. Wish me luck, my darlings, please. I really want to find the strength and patience and talent, to flesh this idea out in the manner that it deserves. For the first time in a long time, I've dredged something out from within me that I actually want to share with others. It won't be an earth-shattering, life-changing read. But... hopefully, someone besides my mother will think it's a lovely little tale, and maybe, just maybe, will want to read it again. Of course, I also want to be able to sell it for loads and loads of money, along with a certain degree of fame and respect. But, you know. One thing at a time.
Mondays. They're not just for moaning, you know. They're also handy when you need a tiny sliver of new-beginning hope.
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