My Nightmare

I've been struggling lately with writing and motivation. The rush of Surrey has faded and now I'm sitting on my ass in my familiar ol' rut.

Last night's dream (nightmare) may have just given me the kick that I need:

I'm at Surrey again. Only this time, I have no money, torn jeans, and a ratty T-shirt that hasn't seen a good day in over 3 years. I'm sitting in the back of the room and Vicki Pettersson is giving her workshop.

I see Beth, Julie, Donna, and Jenny sitting in the front row, but there are no seats left. Hoping not to be noticed, I sit quietly, asking no questions.

Suddenly I realize that I have no story. Nothing to show for the year that has passed since Surrey 2008. Where did the time go? I procrastinated the entire year away, trying to come up with THE story. The familiar feeling of failure slaps me in the face. My stomach drops and I slip out of the room, heading for the elevators. After a 2 hour wait, the doors finally open and I race to my hotel room only to find that my key won't work. I knock at the door and some woman I've never seen before answers. Her name tag indicates that she is a presenter. An author.

Not wanting to wait for the elevators again, I take the stairs down 19 floors, tripping over my shoelaces on the way down and cracking my knee several times.

The front desk personnel are on a break. The lobby is empty. I go outside to smoke and see Jack Whyte. He ignores me. I go back inside and into the lounge. I manage to find some Canadian dollars, but I can't figure out how much to give for a beer.

Thank God my son woke me up at 3:40am! I laid there watching him sleep and thinking: Am I really cut out to be a writer or is this just another dream?

Well, I've decided that whether I'm good enough or not, I'm going to write a story from start to finish and prove to myself that at least I'm not a quitter. The story may suck, but at least I can say that I did it.