06 November 2007

Maybe I'll Go Traveling for a Year*

Yesterday was a bad day. I'm not afraid to tell you that. And part of that bad day came about because of my writing.


I didn't like it.


What am I doing? I thought and almost deleted the file (which wouldn't have been nearly as satisfying as burning the manuscript--heck, maybe I'll print a couple of pages for burning purposes).


You see, I've been on my second rough draft, I'm calling it, of this novel. At first, I loved it. Now, I wonder, what am I doing? (If other writers have these moments, feel free to chime in now.)


I cried.


Which is no surprise. I'm a cryer, and not for the town (although if that position's open...).


But two things have acted as a pick-me-up (outside of Whole Foods).


1. A cool front came in last night. Yesterday was a gorgeous day. For late spring. But it's November. And today I have my crisp fall day with some color on the trees.


2. (And this one's the best): my friend, Erin, that creative cat who I've bragged about before, sent me one of her Coffee Cuffs. Oh, my, this thing is cool. You see, my friend knows that I love bright colors. So she gave me bright colors--yellow and blue and orange with fun patterns like swirlies (I love swirlies) and stars and glitter. She knows that I love fun imaginative stuff, so she gave me a picture of a chicken and a cow in a purple car. She knows that I love red, so she gave me a reversible side with all red and even more swirlies! And, to top it all off, my friend knows that I love fun yarn, so she put a fringe of pink and turquoise and black crazy fun yarn.


I love my friend.


So today, inspired by my creative cat friend and my Coffee Cuff, I went to Starbucks for my favorite drink--pumpkin spice misto.


I love pumpkin spice.


And now I'm feeling good.


Want to see this crazy cool cuff?






To buy your own Coffee Cuff (and you should, you know), go to Erin's Etsy shop--she has a slew of great ones, including Christmas styles. Come to think about it, these would make great stocking stuffers.



*Fifty points if you can tell me the song from which these lyrics come

8 comments:

willowtree said...

Twentysomething, Jamie Cullam.

Don't worry about the writing dramas, from what I've read all the good writers have them. You just need a second opinion.

willowtree said...

Err, that would be Cullum.

Heather said...

Fifty points to Peter!
You can redeem those points here:
www.itainthappenin.com
Thanks for the encouragement. After writing that, I read a blog by a writer who basically expressed the same pain. I think you might be right. We're a dramatic bunch, aren't we?

Jennifer Tiszai said...

Yep, I hate my writing a good portion of the time. I've cried over its suckiness. And I like the idea of printing some pages to burn. Sounds very cathartic.

Jenn said...

I'm currently working on a novel--but not very hard, because I think it's just dreadful. I don't know how to UN-dreadful it, and I feel that I should at least make myself get to the end, as a discipline if nothing else. But it's very uninspiring. I feel your pain.

Erin said...

This was so sweet to read.
You could've drank your pumpkin spice cow and chicken adventure in quietness, but you've invited your entire blogging neighborhood. :)

Your writing experience reminds me of that Muppet character who would always bang his head on the piano in frustration, wailing, "It'll NEVER work! I'm a FAILURE!" What was his name again? (I always cringed to watch him. Good grief, the drama! It's just a piddly little musical composition, get a grip Dude.) Perhaps he needs someone to take him to coffee.

You'll have to subtract points from me because I had no idea your title was even from a song, and certainly didn't know who sang it.

Heather said...

Rolf? Rowlf? The dog.
Are you calling me piddly? ;)
Thanks for making my day happy!

Erin said...

No, not Rowlf. He was a cool cat. I mean dog.

This guy was on Sesame Street and he was a human (oid). (Can Muppets actually be humans?) His mop of brown hair would fly all over the place as he whacked his head on his piano keyboard. If memory serves, he usually had trouble with the words to the Alphabet Song.