I dreamt last night that Adam asked for a divorce. I woke up terrified and so relieved it wasn't real. I asked him about it and he said: "You're not going to have that dream fulfilled."
Thing is, I bring up divorce when I'm pissed. I bring it up far more than I should. This really makes me rethink that little tactic.
Things feel messy and incomplete. The revision is challenging at the very least. Time to unplug for a while.
I'm in San Francisco trying to write. Or, rather, attempting to revise. Revision is a bitch or, rather, I am revision's bitch. It's so hard for me to look at a completed manuscript and figure out where to from here. It's easier to rewrite the goddamned thing. I feel so stuck right now.
Here's my first paragraph:
Sid changes just
when I’m beginning to heal. I keep telling myself that it’s no big deal, just
the aging process, but I’ve trained myself for too long to look for the little
signs. Personality, behavior, habits – all shifting away from the dog I’ve
always known.
Where to from here? Who knows?
Hot day in the East Bay. It's a whirlwind here, really, and I'm writing during a break in my writing support group to express that. I don't even know what I'm writing or what I'm saying, only that I'm enjoying writing it. I've been revising, and it hasn't been fun in the least. I miss the writing process. But it's all a part of it. Right? Of course right, as they say in Fiddler.
