Friday, November 11, 2011

Counting down...

In a handful of weeks my dearest writer-friend and I will indulge in a weekend of addict-writer-heaven. No children. No partners. No phones! A lake, a laptop and that special companion who will not hesitate to kick your procrastinating butt back to the page.

There is nothing quite as decadent as an entire three days in relative solitude with your work in progress and I am fizzing! I can't wait to delve into the world of my characters without having to haul myself back to the reality of one too-tall-teenager, a pre-teen-haughty-queen and two smallish 'bears' with their grizzly ways and wars. No dinners to cook (I'm planning on eating yoghurt raisins and whitakers dark chocolate), no partner to direct attention to, no mundane chores to attend to... Bliss!

Not that I don't LOVE my life, my partner, my kids! It's just, sometimes, when I have a story in my head, a plot thickening like gravey in the saucepan of my mind, I need peace, quiet, unrestricted access to yoghurt raisin's and chocolate without guilt. I need to 'be' my characters - and some of them are nasty! I need to feel the emotions and cry, get mad, be evil, plot to take over the world and laugh maniacally and gleefully without raised-brow judgements. I need to have a little tanty because I can't find the perfect metaphor. I need to sulk because my character did something I never intended and I can't change it because it's perfect. I need to listen to Breaking Benjamin - loud. I need to sit in the sun (ooo, I hope) and let the dense, Central Otago heat lull me into a semi-coma of imagination. I need to be me - uncorrected, uncensored, uninhibited - to banish the rectitude of every-day-Carla.

So, hear's to Writer Weekends! Here's to letting the creative juices simmer like soup, swell like
soufflé and spill like Sémillon in summer. 

Saluté!!

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