Don’t Wake Me To Fade Away

I had a dream I was writing a paragraph about fire, ash, and ice but when I woke it faded away. If I had a notebook and pen next to me would I have written it down before I drifted back to sleep. I would probably write in the dark but I don’t think I could read it the next day. Turning on the light could mean not going back to sleep. Staying awake until early morning. dragging my feet until the sun sets and having an unexplained surge of energy. I always argue with the muse. It strikes at the wrong times. I’ve been trying to train it to come when I’m ready. When I have pen/paper or keyboard/screen. Yet, the muse still likes to punish me with inspiration.

I missed the exact words in my dreams but I’ll be playing with those images in my next writing section.  I could find that spark that is hidden in my subconscious. Here is to hard work.

Be Quiet Brain

I thought I trained my brain to write in the afternoon then last night my mind wouldn’t turn off. I was comfortable in bed with the light off and my brain started to weave words. I was tired and when I’m tired I always think everything sounds noble prize brilliant. I didn’t have a notebook and pen by my bed (what happen to my night notebook?). I didn’t have my phone either. (It is best left charging in the other room incase of 3am emergency alerts.)
Why didn’t I get up and listen to the muse that decided the best time to visit was bed time? I can’t help but think of Elizabeth Gilbert’s TED talk and that quote by Tom Waits where a muse or melody visited him while he was driving and he said, “Excuse me, can you not see that I’m driving? Do I look like I can write down a song right now? If you really want to exist, come back at a more opportune moment when I can take care of you. Otherwise, go bother somebody else today.”
I guess my muse is still in adolescence and although it might see me showing up to the table it doesn’t always feel like writing when I do. It would rather stay in bed and sleep in some days. Then as the light switches off it remembers all it had to say and decides it can’t wait until morning. Now, when the words come, I can sleep because I have less anxiety knowing I’m not missing a story I can write tomorrow. Sometimes, in the morning, I am disappointed I can’t remember what was running through my head but I move on. I start the day with my writing schedule. Occasionally, I find the muse shows up to the table and those days we work in harmony. Those are the days I’m fighting for so I have my nights for sleep.

A Poem By Me

I wrote this a long time ago. I have had it on my Writer’s Café account with very little feedback and since I haven’t posted here enough this month I will share this poem. (Sing song-y nervous). What do you think? General impressions?

Muse

I want to drown in my drink
Let the chilled murky liquid fill my lungs
Weigh my pockets with ice
Numb the fat tongue.

When it’s heavy on my mind
There’s no need to help me find the bottom
Just fill my empty glass
I’m drinking deep.

Hey Bartender give a tip
What was once sugary around the lips
Crystallized to a crust
I’m all tapped out.

The Second Before I Fall Asleep

My mind likes to talk to me as I’m falling asleep. The light has been shut off. I have just found a comfortable way to lay and my mind starts talking.  I know it is my subconscious waking up. I try to keep a pen and paper or my phone with the note page option next to my bed. Sometimes I’m just to tired to write it down. My eyes too heavy and my body’s to cozy. I believe I’ll remember all the “great” novel ideas the next morning but I wake the next morning have forgotten most of the ideas or words I tried to memorize. Do you fight sleep and write when inspiration strikes or say to your muse, “Can’t you see I’m trying to sleep. Can’t you come back tomorrow when I’m ready to take all that creative energy and record it on the computer?” Curses with the morning light and the muse is no where to be found. Bitch.

A New Frontier

January 8, 2013

After the two “not selected” resumes, I received my story’s rejection. Today has been a boxer type of day. Think it’s time to retire trying to publish this story. I don’t think I’ve got an exact count of how many, “have not chosen” this story has been dealt but today will be this story’s last. Maybe another short story needs to be created to find a place on the printed page.