Am I really going to do 100 of these things? I keep expecting my brain to crack.
I don’t plan what I write. I don’t outline anything really. The only time I’ll do an outline is when I have several characters involved or when the ideas are many and I don’t want to forget. Currently my brain is in vampire mode. The vampires are invading my brain. They’re strong right now. I really hope they stick around because I need to bring out some Vampira. I have the whole story all figured out but the flesh is lacking and I don’t ever plan the flesh. I’m waiting for it to bleed out naturally, organically. I have a clear image in my head about it. I’ll eventually just start typing or writing in my journal. That’s normally my preferred method. Gosh! I’m so crazy. I don’t like the blood, the gore. I don’t. I do, however, like to explore my head that way. How can I write the sweet stuff and then turn to blood and madness? Weird, no outline required.
Oooh… they’re twisting me up. I’m hurting and stuff is happening. Skinning people… I have no idea how Olivia does it. But she does. Berkley… he’s passionate, lost. I’m trying to picture Clover ever looking like a normal human being. I can’t. I’m beginning to scare myself with these thoughts. I don’t really like it. But I don’t mind the brilliance of thought that makes your psyche go nuts. Your mind is your torture chamber I suppose. I’m actually closing my eyes right now. I can’t stomach what Olivia did to Paul. I can’t. I have no idea where that came from. I don’t watch the stuff. I’m not interested in reading it unless it’s a classic of some sort. The brain is powerful, though. It’s a world I can’t explain. I just have to let it coagulate slowly. Ugh! My head is killing me right now. (Where’s my happy thought?)
I never thought about writing the vampires. (I’ve posted about this before.) It just happened. Now tonight. They’re staring at me, begging me. God help me with such thoughts. I will eventually listen to them and they’ll survive another post to tell their story. I’m lucky I’m still alive with all of this. My poor man stares at me in wonder. I read him the end of Survival one night. He did a double take on me. I started to laugh because quite honestly, it was as if someone else wrote it, not I. So funny. It does feel a little like that. Like it’s not me writing but someone else. I have to detach myself because, one… it’s not real. Two… it’s vampires, blood, sex, gore. I’m closing my eyes trying not to see what’s in my head. I can’t un-see it though. They’re here. They’re a part of me, whether intended it to happen or not.
My characterizations are real to me. So there, I do like to go. In that sense I love my vampires. I know them, they’re like my children. I feel bad for them even though they do inexplicable acts of torture and they lust over each other like children after sugar. I really don’t think I’m making any sense in this but I just wanted to say, and I’m not apologizing for my deranged frame of my mind right now, (I’m just thinking out loud) that I don’t believe my brain sometimes because it’s not me. Then again, the darkness must be in me somehow. It is me, the darkest part of me.
Of course there is music to support my madness. I don’t think I could manage without it. It keeps me sane in my own insanity. I love Ruelle’s sweet voice against the dark, gothic sounds. This is one of my favorites and I think it’s quite appropriate given my state of mind right now.
Thanks so much for reading and listening.