I really am a creature of habit, solitude. Last night I struggled in my falling asleep for the first time in months. Something was eating away at me, a dissatisfaction. I realized it was that I had writing goals this weekend and I didn't meet them.
My weekend was beautiful. Friday night I took a group of nine of my students to see Saul Williams perform spoken word. I saw him before the show, hanging out outside and went up to introduced myself and told him I was bringing my students. My students showed up while we were talking and he was gracious and kind, he took a picture with them. The show was wonderful. He is a dynamic and passionate performer; he commands attention of the room without arrogance, presence. I wish I had taken pictures of my students watching him. They were transfixed. I could practically feel them opening up to the possibilities of what their writing could do. It'll be interesting to see if any of their writing is inspired by the show when I teach later this week.
Saturday was my baby sister's 25th birthday party, and my aunt's 60th surprise birthday party. I went over to help early and got sucked into errands galore. It was fine, I enjoy helping out my family. But all day I had the little voice in my head Get away, you have writing to do! I ignored it, family is important. The party was fun, a mix of age ranges and people. Again, I saw how solitary I am, or how solitary I have chosen to be, keep myself. Everyone was there with someone, or connected to someone. I was alone, wandering from group to group, mingling and listening. I left while the party was in full swing, I wanted to write. But when I got home I ended up on the phone with my beloved for an hour and didn't write. Yesterday was the same. Family and no writing. So it goes.
I've been thinking a lot about fairy tales. The stories that spark fantastical imaginings, dreams of other-worldness. So much to put into my book. Friday afternoon I managed to get a good amount of writing done. I had one of those a-ha! moments. Weeks ago I put in a character and a scene that I didn't quite understand, the new character gave my protagonist something, I was a little confused about it but decided to trust myself, leave it in. Apparently my subconscious is way more of a plotter than I am because I wrote a scene on Friday that was entirely dependent on the given gift, and it will weave in nicely with the mythology of creation.
I also am weaving in some crazy sadness. One of my favorite characters is mostly part of the back story, the history. But he's going to show up in the second book, heavily wounded in way I haven't seen in a lot of stories. I love how close I am to finishing this book. The second book is jumping up and down, waving me! me! me! Soon enough. Maybe I'll get out a first draft during NaNoWriMo. So much, so much, so much. I love all of it.