Could Not Catch Them All

(Remember that post I mentioned I’d written? That I said I wouldn’t post unless I ran out of things to post? Well here it is. I’ve yet to write the Writing-Anniversary post but I hope to do it soon… The last time I was about to write it, I ended up starting writing another book instead. Go figure. πŸ˜‰ Anyways, here, a post.)

***

There was this song I heard once about a juggler in a circus, and I feel like him right now, trying to juggle too many things in my life.

“But as he threw his skittles to the sky and watched them fall
He knew: tonight’s the night he could not catch them – could not catch them all . . .”

In these last few months, I’ve been trying to do way too many things, which consequently means that I really haven’t been getting anything done. I keep piling on more and more obligations, whether real or imagined, to myself and to other people.

What with NaNo prep back in October, NaNo during November, all of December swishing by with Christmas, and January with a new year and new responsibilities, and then February gone in the blink of an eye, I feel like I should be back in September of 2013.

Trying to balance my writing, reading, internet of all shapes and sizes, life, family, friends, everyday things that need to happen, and other projects . . . I don’t know, it’s just gotten overpowering lately. There are, for instance, emails I haven’t replied to since way before NaNo, stories by friends I’ve promised to critique months and months ago and still haven’t, etc.

I really need to sit down and analyze everything I’m doing and should be doing and basically completely reorganize my life. But that’s going to take time too, time that I could be using to catch up on those things, or to take care of the immediate life things that keep coming up.

Sea

I feel like I’m in the middle of a body of water, and the shore is barely visible far away, but I’m paralyzed by the distance. I know I can’t get there so I don’t even try, and as I wait the water rises higher and higher and the shore gets further and further away until it disappears and I’m just . . . stuck.

More song lyrics? I’m reminded of “Gollum’s Song” in the credits of The Two Towers:

“We are lost . . . We can never go home . . .”

(Okay, that’s a bit extreme. Maybe not that one. I do, however, use that as the theme-song for one of the characters I’m writing . . .)

Just rather overwhelmed here. I kind of feel like I need a vacation. From everything.

Buuut first I would want to catch up on all those things so I wouldn’t feel burdened by them . . . And the guilt cycle starts over again. Heehee.

I don’t even know what I’m trying to say, or why I’m spending the time to say it on my blog since it’s doubtful that it’s interesting or edifying. I guess I just want to say that if I vanish sometimes, this would be why, and also as a sort of mass apology to anyone who’s reading this who feels like I’ve abandoned them with not emailing or critiquing things I said I would do.

And I don’t know if anyone has suggestions either. Everyone’s lives are different. And I’m sure my problems are extremely petty in comparison to others — I’m not saying I have it really bad or anything and I really don’t want to complain! I’m having a lovely little life over here and I’ve been extremely blessed. I’m just a little lost. Sorry to dull the day with my little problems, and if you’ve stuck with me this far then . . . Here, have some profound thanks and a hug and a cupcake.

Cupcake

On a more upbeat note: wordcount meters! I found the link from this lovely lady’s blog, and I just love them! They’re going to sit proudly on the side of my blog and urge me on to actual writing. πŸ™‚

My Precious

NOTE: There was no post last week due to deceased internet.

Also, instead of posting all different days of the week, in the future I’m going to try to always post on Mondays or Tuesdays.

On to the regularly scheduled post.

***

I lurk in my cave, hunched over an object that I move my fingers across, muttering to myself, completely absorbed in it for hours at a time, all alone in the half-darkness. The object is shiny, has amazing power, and I call it “my preciousssss.”

Who am I? You get three guesses.

*whispering* (“One…”)
(“Two…”)
(“Three…”)

If you guessed 1: Gollum, 2: Smeagol, or 3: that-creepy/adorable-creature-in-the-Lord-of-the-Rings-movies-with-the-big-eyes, you are absolutely–!

. . . wrong.

What! How can this be?

…Sorry. You were close, though. (Probably closer than I’d care to admit . . .)

I am a writer, the cave is my writer-cave (also known as my room), and the shiny object I am so often hunched over is my laptop. To be more specific, my lovely Toshiba laptop that I obtained exactly 2 years ago today. This post is to commemorate my laptop’s anniversary/birthday, look back over its the faithful service thus far, and hope for many long years of happy writing together in the future.

It begins . . . Well, it begins how any other story begins.

“Once upon a time . . .”

‘Twas a historic day, October 21st, 2011. I had been planning on buying a laptop for some time, and with my second Nanowrimo looming not far distant on the horizon, I was determined not to spend the entire month of November snatching frantic moments of writing on the family computer. So I was on a quest for a personal writer’s-best-friend, and off I traveled with my life-savings to Best Buy to shop about. A shockingly brief amount of time later, I had found the perfect precious, and with my laptop snugly in its box in my arms (and with my life-savings sitting very tidily in somebody else’s cash-register), I walked out of the store’s door . . . and into history.

(. . . Okay, maybe not that last part.)

On my laptop so far I’ve written the entirety of 2 novels and 6 short stories, and portions of: 10 other novels, a couple novellas, and a few other short stories. How much of that writing would I have gotten done if I did not have my very own laptop in my very own room? Probably not nearly as much.

It has been the most useful tool for my craft of writing that I’ve ever obtained–and really, much more than a tool. To use a term my sister made up, it is my “goochy”; to all you LotR-fans, it is my “precious”; to those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about, it is my dearest electronic friend. (And if that conjured up disturbing images of talkative and eccentric robots, I do apologize.)

Laptop

It is my preciousssssss . . .

How about you? Grouchy computer? Sleek laptop? Gliding pen or stalwart pencil? Tasty crayons? Charcoal from your campfire? Telepathic brain signals that automatically translate into words in a wordprocesser? (If you’ve found this ability, please tell me how it is done–it would be most helpful.)

What is your writing tool of choice, and why?