blessing in disguise

The internet connection has been particularly tentative in the apartment the last several days. I wonder if it doesn't have something to do with the digging in the streets going on around the neighborhood. I guess I could call Time Warner and complain, but the thought of waiting on the phone with elevator music and an occasional voice coming on to say "Your call is very important to us, please continue to hold," makes me want to try something, anything else to avoid that. There's no real rhyme or reason to that aversion. It might help. It's kind of like my aversion to washing food baggies. I generally enjoy washing dishes, but for some reason baggies will stay on the to-be-washed side of the counter for a couple of days before I'll take a deep breath and dive in. (Not that difficult to do once I do it.)

Yesterday, I couldn't get onto the website that allows me to download work from the company in NYC that has been helping me pay my bills for eleven years or so. I tried several times and finally gave up. The day before was a very frustrating work day because the internet connection was up and down and things were taking twice as long as usual, and though that might sound okay from the standpoint of I'm getting paid hourly, I'd rather have my teeth pulled than sit with that. I tried several things, including emailing other support staffers and the IT person at the company. No help was forthcoming.

So I turned of the work computer, turned on the personal computer, and started working on Chapter Four. I spent a good six hours splicing the new stuff I was writing with the old stuff from before -- basically a new beginning for an old ending. It's very exciting to see fiction come together, it's like pulling a loose board from the floor and finding an alternative world going on in the crawlspace; I'm often surprised that it's me coming up with the story, and not totally convinced that some outside force isn't working through me. I've said before that it feels more like channeling than writing.

My goal was to get the chapter to less than 5,000 words, only because the creative fiction critiquing group I belong to has a 5,000-word limit on submissions. I know some stories need more than 5,000 words to be told, and in those cases, we're encouraged to submit in two parts (something I haven't done and don't really want to do). Chapter Four is 250 words over the limit and it feels right. I've cut every adjective and conjunction that I can. I may just have to ask if I can submit on a week when there are only two submissions (normally there are three).

I'm not trying to write comedy -- I find that practically impossible -- but I think "Anita Cox" is a pretty darn funny chapter.

Tonight, I'm going over to P1's to drink wine and read to her; it's good for both of us.