Saturday, April 23, 2011

Confessions Of A Dope Fiend

It has been several days since my last post, and in that time I have emerged from the rocky seas of anxiety and depression, stepping onto a calm, dry land named Lexapro. It is certainly a comfort to myself and my family that I am now back among the land of the fully functioning, but it came at a bit of a self imposed cost. In my haste to be rid of my mental scourge, I popped my first little white pill on Tuesday, my 2nd on Wednesday, unleashing a slew of sweats, stomach upsets, and general twitchy madness. I had forgotten that the pills were supposed to be cut in half and consumed as such for the first week, in essence a weaning on period. I was double dosing and going a little spastic, but in a very calm, out of body type manner.......normality has now been reached and I feel good.

The downside comes on a creative level. I have always written my best stuff when I am at my worst, but it seems I may have found a way around this little problem. Let me first explain how I set about writing fiction. I usually see or hear something, often in dreams, that plants a little seed in my head. From there I start having internal conversations with the main players in the story, their characteristics fleshed out during those interactions. From there, the details start to fill in, everything from plot to settings and all points in between. When it is done in my head, I start typing and it all comes out in a sort of stream of consciousness type blurb. That tends to diminish when I am medicated, making it difficult for me to build in my head. So, this week I made a flow chart, a goddam flow chart coming from the most unorganized man on the planet, setting up my next piece.....it worked, and the juices started flowing. I actually scribbled a piece of dialogue on the back of my Taco Mac beer list last night (my wife has grown accustomed to such scribblings and stores them all away for posterity).

The story is a messed up Little Red Riding Hood tale, and here is what I scribbled, spoken by the Woodsman...

"Certainly, my axe could cleave a limb from your body with just a single, well aimed swipe, but it is far too cumbersome a tool to flay the flesh from the dead. No, that is the work of teeth. Savage instruments honed to razor pure on the bones of the frail and infirm."

It is my plan to try and get the whole thing out tomorrow, stay tuned.

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