Got 8,638 words yesterday, interrupted by lunch, dinner, new people arriving, and general silliness. Talked about conflict issues with three different people. That must be this year's struggle theme!
My words were split between two manuscripts. First chapter of one, most of first chapter of the other. Today I'll finish the second first chapter and start the first chapter of the third book, then cycle between them with a goal of 10k.
BUT that will be interrupted by lunch and dinner and Supernatural. I have been studiously avoiding anywhere that could mention it, but still got word that it was awesome. I am DYING. The download is huge and therefore slow, and idiot me forgot to turn off my power saver so it stopped while we were at breakfast.
*jitters and bounces and tries to focus*
So I have this dreaming thing. I've mentioned it before, I'm sure. When I'm not writing for long stretches, my dreams get more and more vivid and detailed and I wake up exhausted, as if I've lived them. (I keep thinking, "There's a story there," and then I think, "Yeah, it's called Exit Light by Megan Hart, and it's available the week of June 7 at Carina Press. Also, a movie with Leonardo DiCaprio.")
So yesterday I wrote. A lot. And it's good stuff. I'm really proud of it. So you'd think my creative conscious would settle down a little and let me have a quiet night, or at least quiet dreams.
But no. Most of the night I dreamed about work, woke up, realized they weren't real projects and I could relax, and went back to sleep. That would be "normal" if, again, they weren't so detailed and vivid.
But then came the later dreams, the ones in the last few hours of sleep. I can't describe all of it, but man. I can instantly call up images and details. If you've seen Iron Man 2, you remember the scene with the car, how it got sliced? There was a car like that in my dream. Gabriel Tigerman (Andy from Supernatural, and the guy ordering the cowboy burger in that current restaurant commercial) was in the car, and fell out, while it was on an overhead rail hundreds of feet above the city. I didn't see what happened. I apparently had TiVo in my head, because, shocked, I stopped, rewound, noticed he hit an antenna of a vehicle, apparently decided that saved him, and moved on.
There were gangs, and I was house-sitting or working in someone's house or something. My husband was in the dream for a while—apparently, I miss him. Then, at the end of the dream, everything was about to fall apart. Someone was making a speech that, at the end, would set the world on fire. The gang lord was helping people, and I was a cop, running through the streets in size 12 steel-toed boots (not easy, especially when you're short), abandoning my post with my only goal getting to my teenage daughter. I ripped off my gun and badge because they were hindering my running (but I kept them because they'd be needed). It was a great movie ending, with the bad guy doing good and the good guy turning her back on need. But as the speech was coming to an end, my alarm went off. And I woke up exhausted.
So now I'm all WTF? Writing is supposed to ease this stuff! Hopefully, my brain just needs a couple of days to catch up. Which means I'd better get to writing, stat!
Luckily, Supernatural still needs three hours to download. *sigh*