Knowing When

How often do you listen to your gut/instinct? I mean really listen. Not just in a "hey, maybe you shouldn't eat that fifth donut" kind of way, but more like "hey, something's telling me not to take Calvary Church Road and go the long way around on 985 instead" kind of way.

I do. Or, at least, I try to. I mindfully listen to myself. This may sound kinda hippy-dippy or whatever, but I've always thought that if there's any smidgen of "supernatural" ability out there, it's precognition/prescience. I think I've written about the deja vu phenomenon before, as well as jamais vu. I find it all personally fascinating. I'm not saying I can sense when a truck has run off the road and traffic is blocked for an hour, and I've not been one of those stories yet where the person says they told their so-and-so not to go to some place, and it ends up getting bombed or a gunman comes or whatever, but I don't discount any of my gut instincts.

Our bodies and minds are amazing and intricate, and I'm not just saying that because I've been eyeball-deep in studying about the genitourinary system for the past two days. (It might have more to do with the fact that I've started watching Fringe. Love it.)

So whether it's good sense or gut instinct, knowing when to say/do/feel/think anything is a skill worth cultivating. Chuck Wendig wrote something about it today. You should read it.

I've made some big life decisions for myself in the past week. One of them was the decision that now isn't the time to query my novel. I still think it's ready. I still think it's worthy. I was just starting to get really bad feelings about it, especially in relation to my other stuff, so after seeking some confirmation on what my gut was telling me (and I was trying not to hear), I went with it.

It was incredibly freeing. I've been creatively blocked for a year or more now, it seems, but two nights ago, less than a week after eschewing myself from the terrible self-imposed burden of OMGPUBLISHING, I started writing something new and strange and wonderful. I have no clue where it's going, what it's about. I don't even know the narrator's name. As a tried-and-true plotter of novels, it's definitely a change of pace. Maybe that's what I needed. Maybe that's what my gut was telling me.

Forget that song's advice about listening to your heart. All that lump of muscle wants is oxygen, anyway. Go with your gut. It outranks you, anyway, if you consider your colony of bacteria to have a voting factor...

long before the sunrise

My alarm went off at 3:45am today. I didn't even hit snooze. 

So now it's 4:30am, and I'm just finishing up my Multi-Grain Cheerios. Eating so early really sucks. I'm still full from dinner last night, but I know I'll be starved by lunch if I don't eat now. And let's be serious--I'll be starved anyway. 

Today's my first clinical day on my psychiatric rotation. I have to drive into downtown Atlanta for this one, hence the early rising. Meeting my carpool at 5am, but at least the commute-in traffic won't be too bad. 

I'll admit, I'm apprehensive about this. There's such a stigma on psych patients in our society, and it's hard to break away from your thoughts/beliefs without really knowing what it is that you think/believe. They really stress in school that to be a good nurse, especially psych nurse, you have to be 100% aware of your beliefs and schemas. Still working on that, I suppose. 

So, try not to judge, right? I'll be trying not to, too. 

Thunderstruck

So ever since I got so wrapped up in the world of my urban fantasy MS (All That Remains), all other creative input kinda got blocked.

Once I finished revising and revising that book and ventured out into Query World (I'd say right now I'm level 10), I was ready for a new idea. Sure, nursing school is uber brain-suck, but a writer needs to write, you know? Even if just a few hundred words a week.

But when I turned to the idea bucket in my brain--shock. It was empty.

That's a pretty devastating feeling. I moped around for a few weeks, desperately trying to come up with a new idea. Sure, I have some drawer novels that I could revise, but nothing tickling my fancy right now. I flirted with the idea that I should break out of my interest zone and write something totally different, like a romance or YA contemporary.

Idea bucket = still empty.

Until last night.

Anyone who's heard my philosophies on writing knows that I feel like writing comes from the writer, not voices in my head or muses or any of that ridiculous shite. So I have to hang my head a little to admit that last night, in the final REM cycle of my sleep, I had a really awesome dream. 

When I woke up, I put on my glasses and went straight to the computer, where I wrote down as much as I could remember about that dream. Then, all morning, I percolated on it. Running track intervals? Thinking about it. Taking a shower? Thinking about it. Eating oatmeal? Thinking about it.

It's there, guys. It's been a long time since an idea has hit me so hard and been so vibrant so fast. I told hubby about it on his lunch break, and he even gave the thumbs-up on the idea.

Idea bucket = full.

Turns out, I'm best sticking to my comfort zone. So I'll be heading into space soon, ready to start on my new (YA -ish) sci-fi WIP, jokingly titled TANGO TANGO for now.

Oh, and I've started making a playlist for it. On the drive back from the track this morning, I heard the Jesus Jones song "Right Here Right Now," and felt really nostalgic. So most of the songs on the playlist thusfar are from the years '91-'96. Then I realized that meant some were 20 years old and I felt weird.

I'd love to say I'm off to worldbuild on TANGO, but in reality I have my first exam next week in Med-Surg, so I'm really off to study heart failure! Don't be jealous.

And don't give up on your idea bucket.

-s