There is this policy in all my classes this semester - if you miss more than three classes with an unexcused absence, you lose a letter grade. Only, excuses aren’t that easy to come by. “I have a chronic migraine condition. I couldn’t get out of bed that day. Sorry.” was not an excuse. One strike in three classes for that one.
Today, I have a paper due at midnight for one of those classes. I haven’t slept. I’m standing on the metaphoric edge of fifty razor blades and I could fall on any one. I’m loopy and over tired, stress, anxious, and twitchy. I’m making up words and my filters are nearing zero. I’m playing word association games and this post is taking far to much conscious thought and revising as I go. I’m dizzy. I’ve been exhausted and had a sore throat for a week now. I need to relax, to be told it’s alright to go home and sleep, so I can let some of these horrible thoughts drain out of my head. I hate being scared of my own mind, and I hate that I have to be because I can’t take the day off. Its week 5 of 13 and I’m down one strike.
Missing class is inexcusable.
(Oh, thanks, tumblr - “you’ve already asked to questions today. Let’s limit the usefulness of our community just when you need it.) (THAT IS SARCASM #USER FEEDBACK)
Reblog? Send an Ask? I am baffled and my head is spinning. Wat do?
1. Abandon the idea that you are ever going to finish. Lose track of the 400 pages and write just one page for each day, it helps. Then when it gets finished, you are always surprised.
2. Write freely and as rapidly as possible and throw the whole thing on paper. Never correct or rewrite until the whole thing is down. Rewrite in process is usually found to be an excuse for not going on. It also interferes with flow and rhythm which can only come from a kind of unconscious association with the material.
3. Forget your generalized audience. In the first place, the nameless, faceless audience will scare you to death and in the second place, unlike the theater, it doesn’t exist. In writing, your audience is one single reader. I have found that sometimes it helps to pick out one person—a real person you know, or an imagined person and write to that one.
4. If a scene or a section gets the better of you and you still think you want it—bypass it and go on. When you have finished the whole you can come back to it and then you may find that the reason it gave trouble is because it didn’t belong there.
5. Beware of a scene that becomes too dear to you, dearer than the rest. It will usually be found that it is out of drawing.
6. If you are using dialogue—say it aloud as you write it. Only then will it have the sound of speech.
n. a state of exhaustion with how shitty people can be to each other, typically causing a countervailing sense of affection for all things that are sincere but not judgmental, are unabashedly joyful, or just are.