One of the things that I like about blogging on WordPress is the sense of community that I feel exists amongst bloggers who follow each other regularly and take the time to comment on posts. I do sometimes submit a comment and then afterwards worry that what I have written may be taken the wrong way. Once I have released it into the ether I lose control. I am a worrier and I worry that it may not be read as I meant. Still, I continue to comment because I love to get comments on my posts. It makes me think that someone might actually be reading them.
Anyway, today one of the blogs that I follow mentioned me in a post as a new friend. Wow! I feel as if I have been given a virtual hug. You don’t believe me? Go check out It’s Time to Close the Internet. Everything Has Already Been Written. | Are You Finished Yet?. Actually go check out this blog anyway, it’s great.
I can be a bit particular about my personal space so virtual hugs are perfect. I mean, I love it when my kids hug me, although as they are now teenagers this is an increasingly rare event. I can also cope with a show of affection from my other half, but I am not a hug everyone in the room with ease sort of person. When in company I generally crave an invisibility cloak so that I can people watch without garnering any attention.
On the internet though, I like attention. I have been so busy with my NaNoWriMo writing that I haven’t managed to be on line so much over the past couple of weeks. I hate to miss posts from my favourite bloggers and there have been some link ups that I really want to take part in but haven’t yet managed to squeeze in.
However, I am loving writing my ‘novel’. I put quotes around that because the words that are emerging may provide a rough first stab at a plan but are nowhere near good enough to call anything other than imaginative outpourings from my over stacked brain. I think I may be feeling so good just because my head is lighter having got all those words and ideas out.
I went for a lovely walk today with a friend and came back with so many plot tangents to consider as as well as damp, muddy boots. I wanted to write but I had to sort dinner and laundry and sit down with a cup of tea. I am seriously considering getting up at stupid o’clock tomorrow just so that I can write before anybody else needs me. Not that my truculent trio actually need me, but thinking that they might gives me a sense of purpose.
It feels as though my head acts like a toilet cistern (lovely analogy there don’t you think?). I write and write and write until my head has unloaded and I feel good. Then I go about my day, and my walk or swim or just browsing the internet fills me up with more thoughts that I want to write about. Is it any wonder I forget why I went upstairs, or to unload the washing machine?
I have made an effort this week to do some other things too, like visit the gym and talk to my sister on the phone, before I sit down to create. Except then I am bang in the middle of this intricate plot that I have mapped out when I am called away by some family member who has appeared unexpectedly because those two hours didn’t seem to happen. Writing causes time travel folks, always forwards.
If you are reading this because my new friend sent you across then I hope you don’t feel disappointed with my eclectic musings. Rest assured that my regular readers (hi big sister) are always welcome too.