Trainwreck

     Yesterday afternoon, I kicked back in my plastic, blue lounge chair, put a hat on to block the sun, and pulled out my notebooks.  A couple minutes of writing later, my neighbor pulled out his lawnmower, and I drudged back inside.

     Cuddled up in my black, fake-leather recliner, I wrote nine pages which depict the entirety of Chapter Three. Then, sometime after twelve o'clock this morning, I finished entering it into my computer.

     That's right, people!  I'm done with Chapter Three!  *beaming smile*  Marking it off my list at this very moment.  (If you wish to see this fanciful list, visit: Yellow Roses.) (Update on 02/22/13: This list is no longer available.)

     Typing the third was actually very fun.  I can think of three reasons why I might have enjoyed it this time around but not on the 12th.
     1. Unlike Thursday, I didn't have toxins fogging my brain from a chiropractic adjust.  (Can I get a Hoo-ra for back and neck problems?!)
     2. Yesterday consisted of all new material which I hadn't been over a several hundred times; thus, I wasn't bored out of my mind.
     3. Chapter Two, I didn't have my thinking cap on.

     (Warning: The following paragraphs contain little humor.  Reader discretion advised.)
     In contrast to yesterday, today I woke with what seemed like a three-mile pile up; involving a train, propane truck, and three cars full of chickens; in my mind.
     I had a dream that I was writing a scene, but it wouldn't fit together properly.  Along with that, I couldn't find the right phrasing.  Dread and panic set in because it felt like I would never be able to write well again.  That is what I woke up to this morning.
     I know I am still able to write, but that dread and fear still sits with me.  I suppose the dream fed off of difficulties I had with Chapter Three.  (You dream what you think, and I've been writing five days straight.)
     Even though it's done, the characters' reactions to the circumstances, events that need to happen in this chapter, don't correlate to where the characters should be in their development.  It's endlessly frustrating, but I know I can work it out later in editing.  I just need to keep telling myself this is not going to end my writing career.  That said, it might help if I get some food for my rumbling stomach.

     Nose first to the kitchen,

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