I left the house disappointed in myself, my story writing skills, and my indecision. And pissed at my migraines. They steal so much from me. Days. Words. Lucid thougths. Playing catch-up - after a migraine takes four days and the medicine swipes two more. But this is my story, my woe, and it is every bit a part of me.
Migraine aside - I was disappointed in my own inability to get a story together. Or rather to make a decision that will lead me to a story. I was ashamed to have to show my three pages. (Posted previously - short short story) But when the time came to critique our work in an activity called Speed Dating, the feedback I got was suprisingly good - of course we were all looking for the good to say about one another's pieces.
Upon getting home, I have reread and did not cringe in horror, but now sit in wonder, wonder at where to go from here. Scrap the idea entirely? Leave it alone? Let it be what it is intended to be, a tiny piece of a whole. Rework it, continue on? That is the road I think I will take. But another idea came to me in the shower before class - another part of the same story. But the question is how to tell it. These things are not easy to tell. This invention does not flow freely. At times my mind even blocks the meaning of the words I have written so that rereading becomes impossible - it's just fingerpainting.
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