Sometimes stories play hard to get.
You see, stories are very much like lovers, or a crushing admirer. Some of them practically jump and cling on you, refusing to let you go until you’ve paid them enough attention. Some of them get off to an explosive start. Some of them prefer to take it slow, taking the time to relish the little details before ramping up the excitement.
And then there are the tsunderes.
(to this day, I do not understand why we call “an intense infatuation” a “crush”. Might be because of what it often does, at the very end, to your heart and soul)
I called in sick today on account of the flu. I could feel the sickness festering in the pit of my chest, bubbling and frothing, when I woke up. I made my own breakfast, lazed around for a while, and sometime around noon, I thought that if I’m not earning money, I should at least be doing something productive.
So I decided to write some.
There was a story that I started a little more than a month ago, called Sleepwalker, when I was bedridden on account of food poisoning. In my sickness, I wrote about 1,000 words, and then when I got better, I set it aside to play Skyrim.
Having fallen sick again, if only mildly, I thought I could use the time to carry on with the story and, God willing, complete it. But as I sat in my room throughout the afternoon, getting mosquito bites on my feet and feeling the sunlight gradually turn up the heat, my mind became clouded over, and it wasn’t a writing problem – I know a writing problem when I counter one – but a story problem. I didn’t know how to continue the story, despite knowing, more or less, how it should end.
(Mr. King would recommend plowing your way through. But that’s just very… how do I say it… American. It’s just not me)
It seems that Sleepwalker didn’t take kindly to being left alone. I struggled and wrestled with it for most of the afternoon and until the sun literally went down, casting golden rays through my window, and I had added all of 40 words into the story. It was going nowhere.
But that’s where the power of having multiple ongoing projects kicks in. When I came back from dinner, I respectfully but Sleepwalker aside, and began writing a little fantasy story with the writing prompt “Mirror”, as given by the folks on The Writer’s Tower. Within short hours, I’ve already churned out 2,500 words, and plenty more to come in the way of that story.
I can almost feel Sleepwalker’s jealous glare upon me as I write.
I will have to eventually complete Sleepwalker, though, if I intend to make the deadline for KL Noir: Yellow. Or who knows? I might have to let go of Sleepwalker, on account of her not willing to come along with me to where I want to go. See, just like lovers – sometimes you need to let them go.
I just don’t recommend switching your attention to another lover while they fume.