One side of my mind says: Write. Thin Ice.
I focus on that. No choice in the matter.
Something says: Laundry. Clean floors.
Um, I can't focus on two things at once.
Sorry, busy at the moment.
Please call again later.
My active mind is consumed with Thin Ice right now. I try to tell it to do laundry or other chores, and it's just like, "Laundry? That does not compute. Sorry."
In case this is sounding funny to you, it's very frustrating. Horribly, horribly frustrating. I really don't want to let myself write, because it's fun, and it's a good reward for having done my chores. But I can't even settle my mind into a semblance of chore-mode. It just flits from thing to thing, all of them Thin Ice related. So I sit here and say, "Well, I can't write because I haven't done my chores. I can't do my chores because I can't focus. So I'll just...sit here." On my bed. In my room. Glance at Facebook and mentally guard myself against a headache from all the incense my brother decided to burn.
Maybe that's my problem. The incense. It's definitely not doing anything to sharpen my practical mind, although I'll admit it's doing wonders for the creative half. Creative, when I need to be practical. Why, oh why, does this happen to me?
I told my dad the plot of Thin Ice...because he asked. I still don't think he realizes the plethora of stories in my arsenal, as it were. He was like, "You can't be writing. Aren't you waiting on critique from that other story?" Well, if I could stop writing, I really would. But I can't. And don't ever think that "one story" is all I have in my mind. At any given moment there's three or four or five. And there are tons more in my My Documents folder, and on the "Great Expectations" document. I never stop.
I'm a whirring, flitting, absolutely unfocused story producing machine. Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be a story producing machine? It's not particularly...pleasant. Invigorating, yes, but not comfortable and definitely not practical.
On a Thin Ice note, I had forgotten that I had previously called the boy Roe or Rau. Now I'm calling him Jinn or Djinn. Which do you like better?
Oh, I forgot. No one reads this blog, do they? Do they? If you are reading this, pick a name. I don't even care if you care which one. Just pick one so that I know you're listening...out there...in the void...