"Whispers at the bus stop..."
My most brilliant ideas come to me at night as I'm falling asleep. I compose eloquent speeches, breathtaking blog entries, and grand schemes and plans, all in my head, in bed, at night. The problem with this is that they get jumbled up and lost in and among my dreams, and in the morning I can't remember them.
Case in point: I started writing a Joan of Arc fanfiction over a year ago. I haven't touched it in several months due to writer's block. Last night, the muse descended and a breakthrough came. It was elegant, and wasn't trite, it would further the romance I'm trying to achieve without cheapening it, and it would work. I considered pulling out the laptop and typing it out then and there. But I didn't. Now I can kind of remember it, but not really. Damn.
In other news, my headlining act for my Deep South bar night in January is all but signed and sealed, but now we've decided they need an opener, so the search continues. But I'm almost ready to present my other project to the higher-ups. Chicago and Baton Rouge have been vanquished, but tidewater Virginia is still under siege.
Case in point: I started writing a Joan of Arc fanfiction over a year ago. I haven't touched it in several months due to writer's block. Last night, the muse descended and a breakthrough came. It was elegant, and wasn't trite, it would further the romance I'm trying to achieve without cheapening it, and it would work. I considered pulling out the laptop and typing it out then and there. But I didn't. Now I can kind of remember it, but not really. Damn.
In other news, my headlining act for my Deep South bar night in January is all but signed and sealed, but now we've decided they need an opener, so the search continues. But I'm almost ready to present my other project to the higher-ups. Chicago and Baton Rouge have been vanquished, but tidewater Virginia is still under siege.