You step in and it infiltrates your senses. Your eyes dialate and your skin tingles. New carpet, new plastic, maybe leather, ooh is that a sunroof? And that most indistinguishable thing over all... The new car smell. It's almost intoxicating. My husband usually refuses to stick his head into a new car for fear the smell will overtake him and he'll spend 6 hours in a dingy cubical with some guy named Ted trying to "get-me-inna-car-raht-naw!"
That smell follows you around for months after the sale. It comes complete with the excitement of the biggest new toy you've found to date. You're totally overwhelmed and inundated with the new flashy things that come to life whenever you get inside. You feel like you want to tell everyone about it and they're simply sick to death of your new car already.
Then *it* happens ... Someone spills something in there and suddenly the smell dissipates like a ghost in the night. You're left with the shock of a new (and more than likely larger) payment for the next 60 months (ugh!) and this new sticky mess to get out of your brand new interior.
Such is my life as a writer and a new project. I have so much in my head at once its coming so fast that I didn't have time to even sit in the dingy cubical office with Ted to figure out all the fine print. I've driven away in this brand new work in progress and I don't know where the brakes are. I didn't test drive it.
I'm still in 'new car smell' mode; so I'm a little dissoriented with this story playing out in my head, and for which I'm happy. I really dig the beginning of a new story. New characters tied in with the old ones (the trade in,) and improved ways of doing things (upgrades.) I'm overwhelmed with the new and shiny.
Just holding out that someone doesn't spill anything in here for a while. Or dings me in the parking lot.
I literally woke up thinking about the new heroine in the next work. Now that my first WIP is out and on paper, and still being edited (stupid stupid edits...) my muse is not keeping up with my grunt work and has decided to move on to a new project. This one, a loosely based extension of the first, is apparently going to be in the opposite direction. Where as my first was mostly a time travel pitch back into the 13th century, this one is apparently going to be based mostly in the present. I don't really have any clue of the how and why, but the who, where and when is pretty defined. I'm excited!
I also find it amusing and frustrating sometimes that all this comes at once, because I certainly haven't had time to put it all down except in snippets of instant messages and emails to my Dh and a close friend. I've at least saved those and put them in print somewhere so that I won't forget my train of thought.
So far, so good. I will finish editing soon so I can devote 100% to this new monster.
~~~
In the meantime, its still raining here at my house for the billionth day in a row. I'm getting waterlogged. I think I saw a gill popping up on my neck.
I have sent my editing to its room, and it cannot come out until I've said so. I'm so over the process, I can't even read a damn book without wondering if they've spelled something properly. So, I'm going to take a WoW break (For the Horde, naturally!!!) and start fresh tomorrow, after I've rested. I only have 20 pages left of this run through, so theoretically I should be able to do it quickly.... that is... if I don't go crazy in the mean time.
Today I went to see Star Trek on a very rare date with my husband, and then went to my Dad's house to clean up for him. Simple as it may be, I find myself wanting to avoid the situation as after my Mother died in December, her belongings are still scattered about the house; stark reminders of what I've been avoiding. I tend to fill my life with busy-ness so I won't focus on her death. She died at the hospital when no one was around. She we didn't get the tearful goodbye, we didn't get to kiss her on the cheek and usher her on into the afterlife. She was on a respirator and we were called to be told, "She won't be here when you come." We came, she was gone. It was (and is) devastating, infuriating, and hopeless all in one.
I find myself rushing to finish these tasks at my father's house when I'm there because I don't want to relive the frustration that surrounds me.
However, today, I found myself going through a few of her jewelry boxes as my husband installed a printer for my Dad. My Mom was an avid fan of anything sparkly and shiny and kept most of her trinkets through out her life.
I remember looking through these things when I was younger; playing dress up with gaudy costume pieces, and being shooed out of the more precious ones ... such as her charm bracelet that holds mostly bell south commemorative charms, (my father retired from bell south, ) my sister's silhouette charm, and so forth. All of them have a story. I should have listened closer.
I found her class ring today. I put it on. Cried some, obviously. My finger rebelled for a bit under the newness of the metal that held it down but now it feels more at home. I think I wear it a while.
Followers
