It’s a Great Day for Procrastination!

It has been a great day! Day job went great. I had conversations with great customers. One of them brought our team pizza for lunch. Our team took part in an escape room – a first for me. It was cool seeing how each of our strengths contributed to us solving the puzzles.

This is where the trouble starts. No need for catharsis novel-writing when I’ve had a great day, right?

So I’ve spent the past hour reading reddit threads of escape room employees detailing their wild experiences with participants (you can find this gem here), and watching escape room videos. Unfortunately, I didn’t find any as funny as I was hoping, or that lived up to the stories told by those escape room employees on reddit.

And now to get to the juicy writing bit. My latest story idea is about a troubled young-adult woman named Calia who sees the good in the world through a blossoming love/hate relationship. So, said troubled young-adult woman was born from the difficult emotions I experienced yesterday. Some days I think: I’m not a cynic. I just have bad days, like everyone else.

Yet, even on good days, I question the motives of people around me. I view my life as a set of gears that each have to keep turning, and if one fails, the rest fail. I still can’t stand arrogant, impatient, and rude pickup truck drivers on the road (yelled at one today in front of me that was riding a car’s a**. Both left and right lanes were open, so he could have passed. But no. He was just happy riding that car, and braking erratically in front of me. A**hole. Just another driving incident to add to the multitude of bad incidents I’ve witnessed on the road from the pickup truck ilk.)

Also, if you’re offended because you drive a pick-up truck and think my bias is unwarranted, I honestly could care less. Maybe the pickup truck arrogance is a southern thing. Like sweet tea arrogance (which, I’ll admit, I do have. I love sweet tea. Thankfully, my sweet tea is unlikely to cause accidents or kill innocent people. So, there’s that. Not comparable. Don’t try to claim it is – yes, I can already see the pickup truck lovers try to compare that one).

Okay, biased-filled rant is over.

Words from Calia, the troubled young-adult woman in my latest project:

I will give you a taste of peace before wrapping you up in my story. For all I know, it may be the only one you will get. I’m surrounded now by a field of red flowers blanketed by the night. It’s quiet and calm, aside from a couple of owls crowing in the wind. The grass cushions and protects me from the dirt. I trace each star, knowing they wait for me in their dark sky castle. I know what I will come back to, but it’s a fleeting thought. I could sleep forever in this field if I wasn’t afraid of waking up from the pain of animals feasting on me. That’s what I keep telling myself: I’m awake. Awake enough to feel pain. Awake enough to be afraid. How awake do I need to be to feel joy – to feel any sense of happiness?

Oh yeah, the writer’s mood swings are apparent in this one. Here’s to hoping that Calia gets her happy ending – as long as someone can finish the story.

This is when I open up my word doc and begin writing her story. Please, someone slap me with a wet fish. It’s the last thing I want to do on this great day, but I need to do it.

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I am a writer plagued by lack of focus, procrastination, distraction, and sleep exhaustion. I have many things going against me, but that doesn't prevent me from starting back up and trying again. I am a wife and a mother. I own two cats. I have a full-time day job (which I love on some days and dread on others). I look really boring from the outside, but inside, my mind is like a carousel. Or a circus. Or a plane of hell, depending on the day.

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