Part 6: Housewife MacGyver. . . or not.

(You are reading this story in progress. To start at the beginning, please click here. To view the Table of Contents, click here. This story is being written live, daily, and with some audience participation in October 2013)

--Later

I have to pee.

Normally it isn’t something I’d write about, but at least if I’m writing about it, then maybe I’m doing something about it. There’s nowhere to go  here. It’s just a floor, the crazy scary walls, the light that seems to come from the whole ceiling, yet from nowhere.

I decided we can’t be dead if I have to pee. You’re supposed to stop needing food and restrooms when you’re dead. And I really need a restroom.

And when the kids wake up, they are going to need restrooms, too.

Maybe I should stop writing about it. I’m not sure if it’s helping, but I am sure it’s making me spitting mad to think about it.

I mean, who kidnaps someone, puts them in this mind-bending cell, and then doesn’t let them go to the bathroom?

I hear things in this cell.

It doesn’t make me feel any more sane, believe me. I hear shuffling sounds, like there’s someone just outside the cell. Since yelling didn’t work earlier, when we first got here, I’m guessing it still won’t work now. But I hear them.

Swish, swish.

Like they are walking by this cell, not caring at all that a woman and six children are being held prisoner in this cell.

Without a toilet.

I didn’t mean to write that. I didn’t even mean to think it. But it hurts. I keep playing games with myself, breathing, making the periods at the ends of my sentences bigger and bigger (if you hadn’t noticed). Trying to breathe through the ache in my bladder. I can say, with certainty, I’ve never done a longer or more intense session of Kegels. I will never leak when I sneeze ever again.

Oh, my God, it hurts to laugh. Note to self: don’t make me laugh at myself.

It occurs to me that I need to do something.

Sorry, maybe I should have put more spaces. You don’t have the sense of time that I have, journal. Here:

It occurs to me that I need to do something about this imprisonment.

I can’t just lie here, watching the children sleep. I have nowhere for them to go to the bathroom, no food. My milk dried up months ago, and while it could probably come back, it would take a few days. By then, we’ll have died of dehydration. I have no diapers for Juliette.

I have no way to care for these children, and they very well could die if I don’t do something.

Therefore, I must do something.

I dumped out my purse, to see what I’m working with. I’m hoping that there was a reason I grabbed it so tightly to myself, other than preserving you, journal, to help me with my sanity. Sanity is great, but it’s not going to do much for me if I’m dead.

And yes, it is strange that I’m writing down every step of what I’m doing. But I’m in a crazy prison, so strange is the order of the day. If it helps me focus, journal, then I’m going to do it, and I don’t need any flak from you or some future reader (which will never happen, because I’ll either be stuck in this prison forever, sold into some kind of weird slavery, wake up, or I’ll get home and burn this journal and all of the evidence of my crazy in it).

I’m going to take inventory. And like I read in that creativity article last week, instead of just writing down what the objects are, I’m going to write down their  components in the most general form I can

So, this is what I have:

• Four used tissues (used for blotting lipstick, not snot).
• Two pens (ball-point, medium, blue), one stick-pen, one clicky pen.
• A journal (blue butterflies, holographic).
• The wire in the binding of the journal.
• The spring inside one of the pens.
• A very fine wire from the spring inside one of the pens.
• Two plastic tubes (pens).
• Three pieces of butterscotch candy.
• Three small pieces of plastic (candy wrappings).

So far, I could make spit-wads, or I could pick a lock if I knew how to pick a lock, which I don’t, and if there were locks, which there aren’t.

• Checkbook.
• Leather wallet:
• Snaps, a clasp, one 7” zipper. 
• Five rectangles of very hard plastic.
• One rectangle of clear, flexible plastic.
• Paper US bills: $57.00
• Change in the change-purse:
• Loose change: three quarters, eight pennies, a dime, and three nickels.
• Two tampons and three overnight maxi pads (it never hurts to be protected).
• Cardboard tubes (tampons), string, cotton?, stickers (maxi pads).
• A lipstick
• Eye liner
• Mascara.
• Compact (powder, small terrycloth pad, mirror, snapping round case)
• A small brush (mascara).
• Five receipts.
• One pearl earring.

That’s it. I’m not sure what that was supposed to accomplish, except to prove that I’m no MacGyver. I have no idea what to do with any of this stuff.

I suppose I could see if the lipstick or the powder stuck to the walls. I could see if the wire bent, like if there was a deflecting force, or if it just stopped, like it was trapped (and bent by my fingers, maybe).

I could whistle Dixie, too. I don’t see what any of these things would accomplish. Let’s face it, I’m not built for this. Give me a thirty-item “to-do” list, a minivan, and cell phone and I’m dangerous, but . . .

No, it’s not here.  My cell phone. I just patted myself down, checked my purse, and even checked in my bra for it, but it’s not here. I’m not sure it would have worked in here, but it would have been nice to try.

There’s no point to any of this. I’m in prison, and I haven’t done anything wrong since I was 17. I pay my bills, take the kids to practice, go to the school on parent’s night. I do everything I’m supposed to do, except maybe enough  yoga. I don’t deserve prison.

Hey, this is interesting: when I flick a coin at the wall, it sticks there for  a minute, and sparkles, like the field is electric or something. Then it sparks a little drops the coin. Just lets it go.  It doesn’t make any noise, either, not even when the coin hits the floor (I hadn’t noticed that the floor is this weird plastic-foam-skin stuff). The sparks don’t make any noise, but I could swear that while the coin is there, I can see a little through the wall. Like it ripples, and in the bottoms of the ripples, I can see shapes, like hallways and doors and things.

Maybe there is something outside this cell, after all. Maybe I can get someone’s attention.

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Butt In Chair

The greatest writing success tip I've ever received came from nanowrimo: Butt in Chair (BIC or AIC, depending on your customary vocabulary).

"Butt in Chair" is actually what I've been doing all this time with no posting. I actually have been posting, just not at this particular blog. I've been busy writing content for four other websites/blogs, plus contributing to at least two writing projects in this time, and several unrelated-to-writing projects.

Well, nothing in my life is ever unrelated to writing, but you know what I mean.

What is "Butt in Chair"? It's writing.  Although I long for the days when I can have half an ergonomic keyboard strapped to each wrist, thus allowing me type in any body position, for now, the only way for me to type is to put my butt in a chair and pound the keys.

Why is "Butt in Chair" so important? Because writing has to be a priority. And it can only be a priority if you commit time to it daily (or nearly daily, but on some schedule, depending on temperament). Some people strive for an hour of writing a day. Some people set goals for a certain number of chapters or scenes per week. I personally am a fan of 300 words per day (although I often write 4-5 times that, and, during Nano, have hit several 10k+ days). Goals are important, but dedicating time to your craft is even more important. Time is money, after all, and even the Bible says, "For where your treasure is, there will be your heart also" (Luke 12:34).

Why am I quoting the Bible at you (as an Agnostic, it is really an odd habit)? Because it's a saying you've probably heard before, and because it's true. If you break down your finances to look at where  you spend your money, you'll see what I mean.

For example, my finances say we spend the most money on where we live, and second, on food. Since food is very important to this food addict, that makes a Hell of a lot of sense. In other families, it may be entertainment, or vacations, or cable.

But you can also look at your priorities (note, I don't say values, I say priorities) by looking at where you spend  your time. Most of us spend most of our time at our 9-5's. That makes sense. We all have to eat, right? (If you don't like this, my blog about Bucking the American Dream might be for you).

Second on that list is usually time with our loved ones: family, friends, spouse.

Third on that list is usually our favorite hobby.

I leave off here "decompression time". Most of us spend several hours a day watching TV. We don't really care too much what we are watching, we're really just recovering from the demands of those around us. I throw that in with our work-day, because if we weren't holding down soul-sucking jobs, we wouldn't need to decompress as diligently as we currently do.

So what is the third-largest chunk of your time? Is it reading books? Is it writing? Is it doing household chores? Chores may not seem like a "hobby" of sorts, but it shows cleanliness as being a high priority in your life. Otherwise, you'd just let things get messy.

For a lot of us, our priorities are not our values. In other words, we're deeply frustrated (or completely unaware--it depends on the person) that we spend so much time on things we "have to" do, and so little time on things we "want to" do or "should be doing".

This is the classic battle of priority vs. value. If we value giving alms to the poor, but our priority is to live comfortably in the same way our parents did, then we have a struggle (unless you make a lot of money and can do both).  If we value family time but our highest priority is a clean house, we have a struggle.

More to the point of this blog: if our value is writing, but our priority is anything else, we have a struggle.

Values are nearly impossible to change purposefully: what is important to you is important to you. But priorities are merely an administrative pain in the behind to change. The point is,  you can change them. And you do so by structuring  your day.

You dedicate a certain amount of time and/or effort, and you push aside anything that tries to get in the way. Thus: Butt in chair.

If you put your butt in the chair to write, you will, eventually, write. There are plenty of tools to help you, like the Nano perennial favorite: Write or Die.

Scrivener, too, offers a full-screen version to reduce distractions.

No, these people don't pay me to put in these testimonials: they are based on experience and word-of-mouth. I know they work because I use them (Scrivener), or I know a million people who swear by them (Write or die).

The point is, if you put your butt in chair, you will write. And if you write, you will get better at writing. And when you get better at writing, you make all of us happy.

Make me happy: Put your butt in your chair.

Do you have any tools or practices to make yourself write? Comment and share them with us!

Ideas Spring When There's No Time to Write Them.

I know I'm not the only one frustrated by this: You are in the middle of six hundred projects, and suddenly an idea for a new work just pops into your head.

It just happened again to me this morning. But I'm busy. In fact, I'm busy because four other projects popped up just like it, as insistent as this one, and wouldn't shut up until I started them.

But I haven't finished any of them!

Begone! I say.

And then I run after it, screaming, "No, don't begone! Come back! I didn't mean it. I promise to be a good writer. I promise to keep you and coddle you and even start you. But don't leave me!"

Because, of course, the opposite problem is worse: having no projects going on, but also no ideas for any projects.

So I'm asking my readers: What do you do when you have a project that won't leave you alone while you are busy with a prior project?

I was thinking of building a database. In fact, I have one I'm still building (another project) that I'm going to offer for free on this blog, for Outlining a fiction project, tracking submissions, etc. In fact, I have an idea module in this database, but it is more for generating work out of cast-off idea fragments, like, "I want to write a story about a blue person!"

This idea isn't like that. This idea has characters, a plot, and  a whole lot of tantalizing mystery. This one has ex-lovers and the end of the world. I have a old failed Nanowrimo that was about the end of the world, so I might throw this into that, and see if sparks fly.

So, that brings me back: What do you do when you have a story that won't get off your leg?