Thursday, July 24, 2014

Sleep, Why Must You Evade Me?

So, it's well past midnight here in AZ and I've yet to sleep.

Why, body?! Why?

Here's the thing...finally being able to find a creative outlet is sort of a weight lifted. I went years (after high school) sort of walking around blind. If you knew me then, you'll know I lived and breathed singing. Singing was everything. I spent every waking moment dedicating my life to it. If I wasn't actually singing, I was studying music, technique and the logistics of it. I wanted to be the best at what I did. Go big, or go home, right? So, that's what I did. I strived to be a role model. Was I one? Hell if I know. I'd like to think I made even a little bit of an impression on the people I came into contact with, but really, how could I know that? That's beside the point...I'm rambling.

I graduated and lost contact with who I was. What I wanted to do. I went to work with special needs children and I liked it. Did I love it? No. My kids were amazing. I still miss them. But, I'm creative. And Jesus, that sounds so damn cliche. "Oh, I'm a creative." LAME. But, I want to do things that don't consist of the everyday norm. I changed my college major more times than I'd like to admit simply because I got bored. Everyday, I'd go to class, do the mundane assignments, turn it in and yawn. I didn't want the day-to-day life. This artistic side was screaming, begging to come out and be heard, but I shut it up. I thought that part of my life was done. Singing isn't an "adult" thing to want to pursue. First of all, I'm not good enough to do it. I'm a choral singer. Plain and simple. Put me with two other girls and I shine. I love making music with others. But, put me in a solo position and I bomb. Straight into the ground, burying myself along the way. And unless you're going to go to a big choral school, striving for a choral career was not easy. I gave up. There...I said it. I gave up on myself.

I was walking around without a map. And mapless Cassie sucks. She latched onto anything just to feel something. Anything. But, it never came. I found my husband. He put light into my world of confusion. He helped me find myself. But, even he couldn't really help pull me out of my funk. I was mad.

Then, one night, after I got married, my husband was away, training for the Air Force, when I decided I was going to stop being an idiot and I was going to figure my shit out.

I'd always loved to write. I was told often in high school that I was a decent writer. I had a two teachers who literally read my assigned journal entry everyday to dissect it. At the time, I blew it off.

Singing...that's what I was going to do.

Oh, how wrong I was.

Anyway, back on topic. One night--or morning--I remember coming home late from being out with friends, alone in my apartment, writing characteristics down on a piece of paper. Something in me needed to live. I had these lives in my brain they wanted out.

If I recall correctly, it was super cold that year. I lived on the 3rd story of the apartment building and I heard a young couple outside proclaiming their love to each other. At the time, I didn't think anything about it. I closed my notebook and hid it away. A year later, I found the notebook and flipped to the character list and re-read it. It was very much an ode to my life with my husband. A couple deeply in love, never wanting to part. Instant love. (I know, I know. We hate insta-love) But, my story started that way. Adam and I fell quick. It was easy. To love him was like breathing. I didn't have to think about it. It was like a knee-jerk reaction. The first night he kissed me...I knew. You can wave me off and not believe me, but it's the truth. That was almost nine years ago and I love him more now than I could ever imagine.


At that time, we lived in Tucson at our duty station and I didn't think I could do anything about it. Again, I shut that notebook and stowed it away. We moved 3 times before I dug that notebook back out and really decided to bite the bullet and do something with my life. I had had my daughter, and we got out of the Air Force, it was time to finally do something for me. I needed to find a way to make my heart happy.

So, I outlined...

.....and outlined....

Oh yeah, more outlining.

Then, I finally started to write my story.

And it didn't go the way I thought it would. At all. Like, not one ounce. The only aspect that stayed intact was the love the two characters felt for each other. That never changed. But, everything else, pshhh, it all went out the window. I wrote close to 80,000 words and decided I hated the story. I hit DELETE and started all over again. All. Over. Again.

I cried...a lot. I didn't sleep. When you have characters that want to be written, you're sort of on their time. Human time doesn't mean shit to characters.

So, here I am. Human time is sleeping. Human Cassie is passed out in bed, snoring. But, Writer Cassie is up, at fucking one A.M., listening to her characters ramble on about how they want to be written.

I'm talking in 3rd person...

So, I'm stuck in this constant pull of taking notes and watching my blinking curser. There are some days, like today, it doesn't matter how many notes I've written, I can't get the story out. Being blocked is a bitch. I've got pages upon pages of outlines and notes and I have no idea what to write...

Here's hoping I get some sleep tonight....

So much love,



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