Plathological

In Row No. One, They Check Your Dress Size, For Fitting

I'm sitting at my writing desk, my legs are crossed and I'm chain smoking with obvious intent to kill, drinking vegetable juice from a freakin glass goblet I found by the side of the road and being dumbfounded. I am so fucking dumbfounded. Like: I'm supposed to be editing here?? That's the reason I'm still up, isn't it? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck (triple underline dutifully implied). Thus far, I have fixed something that has been flagged as a "mixed metaphor." That's all. Apart from buying vegetable juice that's making me crave Caesars like nothing else, that's ALL I've done today. I'm good at fixing "mixed metaphors," since they've been in my work since I was oh, about thirteen and people have been harassing me about them since I was oh, fifteen. We had a wonderful two year run, mixed metaphors and I, youthful and covert, let's say. Then we were caught out, forced to stare at the screen for hours. And hours. I'm so frustrated. This is going to be what amounts to a complete rewrite, and the extreme prospect of that is changing my breathing patterns to terrible, shallow fluffs. I feel like a mass of fake cotton snow, under the plastic Christmas tree. There are those who are ready to set wrapped boxes of presents right on top of me. And it's not like I don't know what to write. I have two (2) full new scenes planned out in my head and notebook, there's just something about them that's holding me back. That's enough: it's time for pacing. Every story is so much more difficult to write than the last. This doesn't get easier. You just become more and more of a crazed insomniac with the advent of every possible line. Though, verb-tense agreement and dialogue punctuation become something of a second nature--which is . . .a good thing?? What room are we in? Ugh. I'm such a child. This is just like me. The presence of this F-E-A-R is made even more devastating, awful, and pathetically festering by the fact that I have so many wonderfully detailed comments from the prof and they make so much sense to me. The comments are truly inspiring and stated in such a matter-of-fact way that I'm nothing short of grateful. I really have no excuse here, in theory. Though, everything changes once everything else is blocked out--and that's something I'm currently having trouble with--massive ADD-like trouble. Ergo, perhaps it's time for bed and then starting again tomorrow, first thing in the morning.