Did you ever find yourself at sea with too many oars and not enough hands?
Or is it too many boats and only one me?
Or why do I have all these oars and no boat?
Or wtf happened to my oars?
Or , I really have no clue which direction I am going, in which boat, and can't remember what I did with the oars. We will not discuss sails, the oar situation is bad enough.
Do not bring up boat motors. Flammable substances with explosive potentials and so many moving parts are hell world situations waiting to happen.
All of that to say, chaos is a wonderful vacation experience, but not a long-term system that is sustainable. Too much chaos , I have discovered brings stasis.
Where to focus?
Every time I think I am going to work on A, D intrudes, turn to D and B causes an interlude, scream in frustration and C reminds me it exists. Then, other things interrupt.
Sit down to work on Aerons Flame, the Arthurian saga and I am suddenly writing about Pelagius.
Start working on Dance Of The Damned and Malady Malice maliciously invades.
Bob's litter box smells awful.
There's strange things in my socks besides my toes.
Ear worms crawling through my head.
Then random lyrical poetry.
Then deep diving into Biblical eschatology for Ashes and Hope.
Do other writers have this issue?
Maybe duct tape can muffle the noise of competing brain cells.
Maybe I have lost my mind.
Wait, I saw a butterfly and now fluid dynamics are an obsession.
My coffee has beguiled me into mental mayhem and pandemonium.
Can I just have one freaking hurricane at a time please?!?!
I would say I lost my mind but my mind keeps giggling and tossing more oddities that are shiny sparkly and,
What the hell was I saying?
Was there a point to this rant?
Oh yeah.
I was trying to be productive and write.
See what I mean, look at this completely pointless explosion of expository nonsense.
My marbles rolled away.
I think I need a nap,
I think I want chocolate cake,
I think I think to much.
Oooh, coffee is ready.
a hug
maybe just a hug