Thursday, May 19, 2011

Don't Panic, Mr Mainwaring!

OK

     

I must admit that the last post may have been a bit.....odd. But hey, that's the nature of the beast. It was a brief journey off piste and quite lovely in lots of ways, though I realise that if I'd overindulged, the results would have been broadly the same as acid-abuse. I have never taken acid as far as I know, though there was a very unfortunate incident at Glastonbury a couple of years ago, that makes me wonder. I've never really got on with drugs. It's not a morality thing per se; I tried most things in my youth. It's rather that they always had an unexpected effect on me. I'd sleep instead of laugh, or be sick instead of dance and so I gave it all up as a bad job. After that last post, one can't help but be grateful for small mercies.

I seem to be able to trip without the need for drugs at all. 

Anyway,I have been out of commission for 36 hours because someone posted the details of a writing comp through my door on Tuesday morning and its deadline is tomorrow. In reality, since Tuesday was spoken for, it meant I had Wednesday to write it and Thursday (today) to post it.
Spikey can't resist a challenge and so set herself the task of dreaming the storyline overnight on Tuesday and simply committing it to paper it on Wednesday. Job done. In theory. But in the end, tiny foxes scampered around my room whilst I slept and it annoyed me, because they used up precious dream time.
 I needed 2, 500 words! I hadn't tried that in 20 years. I had managed 250 by lunchtime, which wasn't to schedule by anyone's book. I tried to cat nap to refresh myself but pesky foxes kept getting in the way. Then I realised that they were signposting me to a memory and then it wrote itself. 
I slept for 5 hours last night as it still wasn't finished, and began again at 6am. I felt sick from looking at the screen for so long and from lack of sleep; I had a migraine. Then I realised I had 2536 words and a Post Office deadline to meet for guaranteed next day delivery. So, double vision notwithstanding, I axed a few and had no time to proof read it again. The 200 word cover letter about myself suffered, as by that point I had decided they'd have to make do with a paw print and 'See Blog!' and I headed off down to the Post Office. I had decided to include an A4 sized photocopied print of myself, rather than the passport photos I had had taken for my driving license last month. Those had left me wondering why no one had ever thought to tell me that I'd had a stroke.

Now, you ask, why did I bother at all? It's simple. It was the second competition posted through my door in 48 hours and I decided that if I was going to start listening to the universe, then I'd be as well to start immediately.
I know that I have a miniscule chance of winning, and I know that it won't be everyone's cup of tea, but I was proud of it; despite the errors I have found since sending it, despite the lack of location information, despite myself. It was the best I could do in 24 hours, and it wasn't half bad. I know that because once I finished, I kept bursting into tears and getting all emotional and the crying reminded me of how I felt after I gave birth. It was my baby, being sent off to be judged by strangers. 
I will love it however ugly it is thought to be, because it is my story.




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