I almost went back to bed this morning. Hubby was awake and on his laptop. Mini was in the recliner watching Boohbah. I went to the bedroom, curled up into a blanket burrito, and closed my eyes...
And the demons started talking to me. Loudly. Whole scenes. I opened my eyes and looked at the clock. Could it wait, guys? Really. I'm tired. It turns out the muse was not to be twarted. Either write it down or let it get away. So I got up, and reached for my notebook.
Yesterday while lounging, I peeked through my demon manuscript and well... let's just say I deleted a good chunk of it on the spot. Tossed it right in the recycle bin and hit erase. Anything that bad isn't worth keeping. In the past I have tried to rework bad fiction and it just doesn't work up right. Start over. Start afresh. I cut the manuscript back to Chapter 2. Oh, yes: Big chop! Then I decided I'd sit on the ms a while and not worry about it. I'd planned to start working on a brand new project today. Something different, and unrelated to werewolves or vampires.
But now this. The demons pop up. And they didn't just whisper. They shouted. Pages and pages, and pages... And it's not at all like the last attempt. This stuff gave me chills rereading it. It's a romance with horror elements - very different. But I'm determined now to write it this way. I feel like I've "refound the vision" with this book.
On another note, I had another bizarre dream and I believe it's related in some ways to the first. My subconscious is definitely trying to tell me something.
In the dream I am with my mom, and we're tooling along in her truck. She's driving, and we turn off on this muddy road that looks more like a cow path than anything else. Next, we're going around this curve, when I look out my window and see the red pot (again!) from my kitchen, hubby's orange ball cap, and a string of other random cluttery items from around my house. Mom said something about how Dad and hubby (who at times work together) likely left all this stuff outside. It's scattered across someone's yard like so much litter. We pull over, and I'm absolutely astounded at the mess. I start picking up stuff and tossing it into the back of mom's truck: the pot, the cap, and even one of my floral bed pillows - which is caked with mud. Then as I'm standing there, this off-white cow comes up. The fur looks a bit mangy, and the cow keeps sticking its tongue out. I look at the animal and feel sorry for it. Mom tells me not to touch it, and points to a wound on the cow's neck. I finish putting all the junk in the back of mom's truck, and as we climb into the cab, I can't help thinking I've got a lot of cleaning up to do.
That's when I wake up.
I'm pretty sure those inner voices are telling me to clean up messes, take care of unfinished business, and get on with it. Stop lingering - which is, shamefully, one of the things I tend to do. As for the cow in the dream, I'm thinking that's to do with my neighbor's dog. The one we were feeding. She hasn't come around the house in about a week, and I haven't heard her barking from their backyard pen. I have this sinking feeling something has happened to her, but short of knocking on my neighbor's door and asking, there is no way to find out.
That's it for me today. While Mini is engrossed in Dora, I'm gonna try to do a bit of writing. Happy Monday, all!