*retrieves tatty bit of paper on which notes were written five days ago, subsequently moved from bag to pocket to bag to pocket to pocket*

on Wednesday, whilst at work, i was thinking about thinking about (yes, i did write that twice) writing, responding to a blog post (well, actually, a series of blog posts) by @RemittanceGirl that are currently knocking hard on my consciousness.  work is horribly busy at the moment, personally quite stressful and, frankly, is getting me the fuck down.  i feel like i’m drowning.  i have feeble a mind that does not like to deal with stress if it can possibly avoid it, and so will engineer endless distractions for me or, at a push, simply fall asleep.  i am absolutely not narcoleptic, but sometimes i fear it would be very hard to tell the difference.  i find it very surprising that the black dog is not biting harder, actually, since it always seems to pounce when i am vulnerable, particularly when i feel tired all the time, as now.  but no.  at the moment, it is less self-hatred that i am dealing with, rather a generalized out-of-sorts-ness.  i did have a small doggy moment this morning, but nothing too serious (thank goodness) and my lovely Hubby was there to hold me, and tell me to stop being silly – for which i was grateful and thankful.

anyway, i seem to have wandered off topic, as usual.  the original point of this post was to talk about losing the threads of my thoughts. or rather, the fear of losing my thought threads.  because that’s all they are, really – gossamer threads, that must be pulled gently and carefully, or they will snap (which puts me in mind of a dream i have fairly regularly – weirdness i won’t go into here…).  see, with work buzzing around in my skull like a swarm of angry wasps en flambé, my mind will, in self-defence, throw out a thread of story, which i will then be desperate to hold on to, lest it snaps and floats away in the breeze.  however, the act of teasing this thread shuts out any coherent thought about anything else – including the thing i should be doing, which is what allows me to sit here typing away on a Sunday afternoon, instead of being at a second and, probably, infinitely shittier job somewhere else. so i can’t think about story and work at the same time.  i end up staring off into space whilst the office whirls around me. i am really quite disturbed – discombobulated, even-when i land back in my chair with a bone-rattling thump.   i find myself fighting the return with everything i have, since in that one bright, shining moment, i know what i need to write.

and so, i try to write notes, now.  not always coherent or comprehensible (or even legible) but there, at least, to jog my mind when i return home and eventually get my damned laptop to work.  i know, i know…  rule one: carry a notebook.  but i do always carry a notebook.  i have done so for years.  not always for the purpose of story ideas (since i had little idea that there actually was a writer lurking inside of me until three years ago), but simply to jog my memory, since i am horribly absent-minded.  but i have started using it more, these days.  hte results atre somewhat worrying, as it happens.  i suspect i have far more little whisps of story-thought that float around my brain without ever being recognised and caught, since it always surprises me how much actually ends up in the notebook, even if i don’t seem to write in it that often.

in related news, i’m actually getting quite excited in the run-up to NaNoWriMo this year.  not, however, because i think i might have something earth-shattering at the end of it.  if the last three years have taught me anything, it’s that 2008 was a fluke.  one i’m very happy with and ridiculously proud of, but a fluke nontheless.  no – this year, i’m simply looking forward to the actual process itself.  it’s exciting to have a starting point, and everything past that be swallowed up in shifting fog that will lift and swirl and play as i wander the path.  it feels as it should this year – an exciting adventure just waiting to happen.

*glances at the calendar*

come ooooo0n, November!  what’s keeping you?!