I love when I finally get past some kind of writer’s block. But I don’t like how it always happens to me in the middle of the night. Last night, I was sleeping… then suddenly I awoke with a sudden realization. I had been trying to think of a poem excerpt that would be just creepy enough and vague/weird enough to work in my novel (no time to explain all that). So I thought to myself, “Lewis Carroll! Dear, dear Lewis.” But alas, I could not find just the right bit of poetry. I tried all the creepy/weird poems I could think of from the Alice books, and then The Hunting of the Snark. I considered Phantasmagoria because of the name, but when I got around to reading it I found myself chucking at all the puns– the title is misleading. Hrm.
So a week went by and then it was last night, 3 a.m. I shot up in bed with this on my lips, as though some fairy had put it there while I was asleep:
“He thought he saw a Coach-and-Four/ that stood beside the bed/ he looked again and saw it was/ a Bear without a Head/ ‘Poor thing,’ he said, ‘Poor silly thing!/ It’s waiting to be fed!‘”
Then I got really creeped out because suddenly the clothes hanging over the bedpost looked like a Bear without a Head (you know, the weird capitalization really makes it even creepier), so I immediately fell asleep, though cursing my lack of paper and a pen. I was too tired to retrieve some. Besides, getting up in the pitch dark with all the eerie, inexplicable capitalization running through my mind was pretty much out of the question.
Lesson learned: I really ought to start taking a notebook to bed with me. Also, if I have writer’s block, I should just take a nap.
PS: Bug said something cool about writing…. To paraphrase, it sometimes takes “mad thoughts”. I find this comforting as I sit on a swing in the backyard muttering to myself, or when I act out my character’s arguments while in the shower. Hey, it’s more productive than singing in there….