Friday, December 30, 2016

The Wild-Haired Girl at the Crossroads, Part 3

 
The Inner Editor drinks...a lot

Evil Inner Editor
The wild-haired girl sat in front of a fire, warming her hands. This journey she'd taken was far longer, and filled with more peril than she realized. The small pink gorilla (the inner editor) sipping from a small metal flask which she highly suspected had whiskey in it. Her fairy god-person was out and about saving other clients--which was good, because she'd been here for awhile.

    "You move slower than pond-water." Slurred the pink gorilla. "Which is good, because you really don't know a thing about story."

   The wild-haired girl gave him a long stare. "I think you need to slow down."

   "Nah, I got it." Slurred the small creature, who took another drink and fell over. Passed out cold.

   "Idiot." The wild-haired girl sighed and sipped her coffee.  She'd been here for....days, months, and if she were truthful, years.  She'd started this journey some time ago, dealing ankle-biters, little monsters who bit and slashed at her ankles  as she walked. Their names were odd--Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Tumblr. After a particularly rough day, she managed to banish a few of them by giving them caffeine, apparently too much could hurt some of them. Two remained, Facebook and Instagram grey and blue fluffy creatures with lots of teeth, (caffeine just made the sleepy) were curled at her feet snoozing.

B.A. (Mr.T) the voice of reason.
  She looked at the paths ahead of her. They were similar to the ones she faced when she first started this journey.  Some were shrouded in darkness, others smooth, or filled with rocks. The one she faced had fire-flies dancing in the gloom. There were others like her, all sitting before their fires. An older guy on her right played on a guitar gazing mournfully down a path. On her left, a twenty-something girl painted her nails, pretending there wasn't a path before her. She could see more people sitting before flickering flames as if they were the only ones out there. She'd tried talking to them, but they ignored her, everyone refused acknowledge each other, instead they stared at the paths with fear, desperation, despair, and resignation. Just like she had.

  Tomorrow she would take that path.

 She knew when she walked the shrouded path, it would carry with it the many headed monster of rejection, and the twisty vines of revision and editor. There were other scary things out there-- the blankness of writers block--a cold and empty cloud which she'd learned to just trudge through.
B.A (Mr. T). has no problem taking out the Inner Editor

  What else was there?

  She wasn't sure. She took another sip of her coffee, the fuel which kept her going when she no longer wanted to walk.

   "Are you ready?" A small man, who looked a lot like Mr. T; asked as approached her, pausing next to the fire.  The wild-haired girl blinked in surprise.

"For what?" She hadn't spoken to another creature other than the inner editor in weeks. 

"To start walking, why wait until tomorrow?" He nodded toward the path she'd been looking at. "You've been believing that lie of tomorrow for awhile now, best to just start moving or you'll be here another year like the rest them." He pointed to the older gentleman, "He's been waiting until he retired, now he's waiting until his wife retires...he's never going to take a path, some of them have already closed up." Indeed, there were only one or two paths now before him, and all looked treacherous.

Unease spiked through the wild-haired girl at the thought of it. She looked at the twenty-something girl next to her.

"That one," The small man continued,following her gaze, "is waiting for Luck to notice her. No matter how much I've told her she has to start walking, she's determined to wait for him. Luck is crazy, and there is no guarantee he'll ever stop by, but she won't listen."  He crossed his arms. "What about you?"

   "You're right." Agreed the wild-haired girl, trying not to panic at the thought of being in this spot another moment, and stood. With sure moves she re-arranged her backpack, shouldered it, starting forward with the image of being trapped in this limbo keeping her moving. The small man gave her a thumbs up.

As she walked, she looked down at the small man, "What's your name?"

"Oh, you can call me D." He grinned, keeping pace with her. "It's for discipline. Everything you accomplish is due to discipline, it doesn't need luck, retirement, or vacations. I'm here to remind you of that."  He swatted at the fluffy sharp-toothed monsters who toddled beside her trying to bite her ankles. They were grumpy she'd started without them. "I'm also here to keep some of the monsters at bay."  The ankle biters backed off, respectful of D.

Behind her, the inner editor, awoke, saw she was gone, grabbed his flask and staggered after her. The fire was left burning for the next person who came to this way station.

The wild-haired girl didn't glance back. She knew the inner editor would catch up, he always did. But that didn't mean she had to wait for it.

She stepped onto the path with the fire-flies, she may have stalled a bit, but the great thing about this journey--she could keep going.

D cheered. 

*****

The new year looms, what are you going to do? Have you found yourself stalling? Lost? What are you going to do?

Me, I'm going to write, laugh a bit, and drink coffee. I have the pink gorilla and Mr. T. What could go wrong?

Ha....

They actually work together. Not sure how I feel about this....