October’s Wunderkind

Wunderkind? Ha. I don’t think so. It’s another month of struggles and lackadaisical ambition. The idea of October’s thrills and chills are much better to be enjoyed rather than participating in, I think. I love the gruesome, scary bits and pieces of the month but I just can’t bring myself to write the horrifying, depraved scenes that unwind in my head. In fact, I can’t even imagine anything that could be scary enough to compete with what’s out there now. Perhaps if I wrote what’s in my head 20 years ago it’d be shiver-worthy, but it seems that most of society has been exposed to sex, blood and guts to the point that it’s had to think of things that carry any shock value. I don’t want to be the writer that does it. I am no “Saw” mastermind. That clown person freaks me out.

So what’s been happening in my sorry little tale? There was a mass murder, I think I described the victims as “Christmas Baubles” in an old cypress tree and scarecrows in a fallow field. I’m not exactly stuck but I’m hesitant to really put into words what’s happening in my head. I don’t want to dwell on the nitty gritty descriptions that make a twisted scene absolutely appalling. Can I write what I’m thinking? For sure. I don’t really seem to want to though.

There’s a big part of me that’s scared about what I might discover if I let these reins go on my imagination. Am I in the realm of R.L. Stein or am I more Dean Koontz? I’m afraid to let people into my head with this story; it feels like there’d be judgments made even though they may do their best to be impartial. It’s like the romance genre. I can really go off the deep end with the scenes so how far do I dare fall? There’s nothing dictating who gets to read my work but after writing something, it’s nice to have an audience. I don’t know if I could let something sit on my shelf and gather dust.

I’m really, really excited for November because it’s finally NaNoWriMo. I’m hoping since there will be a zillion people doing the same thing I am, I’ll be able to get back into the true writing regime. No more half-attempts nad lukewarm writing sessions. I want to be back where I was in August- crazy-haired, squiggly-eyed, enthusiasm with 10 possessed fingers. Maybe I’m just not drinking enough coffee. I’m not sure.

With 10 days left in October, what can I manage to pull together? We shall see! I’m not giving up, have no fear!