Breakthrough Day

I arrived here with a pretty firm idea of what I would be working on. The theme and general idea, the two main characters, a rough outline of the story. On Friday, that story poured forth, pages and pages spewing out of my head and onto the page. I felt pretty smug about it all. Look at me! So productive! So smart and prepared and efficient!

But, by the end of my writing day, I began to feel a tingling in my Spidey senses: something's wrong.

I pushed those thoughts away. (Regardless of the fact I've been writing about listening to your intuition from the get-go.) Nah, I said. I'm ahead of the game. I'll probably get two screenplays written. It'll be fine.

I experience my 'weird night' of totally unexpected people and conversation. I feel a little bit like the country mouse mixed with a fish out of water. Humbled and freaked out. Several things from the evening stick with me, but I don't know quite what to do with them. I spend Saturday feeling weird and unsure of things. Saturday evening, I do some serious personal work on forgiveness after finishing my book on self-sabotage. Which leaves me feeling relieved, lighter and exhausted.

Sunday, I'm up and at 'em at 4 am, watching a mind-blowing, life-changing film on the interweb (The Moses Code, check it out, ignore the stupid title). I watch the marathon, weeping every five minutes at the power and beauty of thousands of people moving together. (Happens to me every time.) I retire to a cafe and am hit with a tsunami of clarity and connection.

It literally feels as though every person I've met, every conversation I've had, every word I've read, every image I've seen has come together for this moment. As though I drew it all to me for this exact reason, so I could write this screenplay. I realize that the screenplay I have been writing is only part of the screenplay that I am being called to write. Stories, characters, scenes, connections tumble through my brain. I feel like laughing. I am overjoyed. I practically skip home.

And then the blech returns with a vengeance. I have a nap, which leaves me feeling like the stupid zombie version of myself. I spend the evening drooling in front of the computer scrolling through pointless celebrity gossip. Self-sabotage? Exhaustion?

I feel guilt at not writing much over the weekend. I am also conscious of the fact that I needed that time for the subconscious forces that were operating to do their thing. I tell myself that people who are wide awake and working at 4 am are allowed to turn into drooling zombies by 7 pm, but that each of my actions is a choice that can either move me one step further toward my purpose...or not.

Today, the elation has passed and I am left with the task of getting it all down on paper (or computer as the case may be). Today, I am the secretary of my inspiration and I'm scared. These creative detours are delicious moments, but scary moments. You have to be flexible. To allow your piece, what you thought it was, to change. This is where trust comes in. You must trust that your intuition is guiding you exactly where you need to go.

I can feel my perfectionism crowding the door, wanting to plan and control, to get it right the first time. I feel pressure to get it all done now, today. I can feel my intuition sitting quietly in the corner, reading the paper and sippin' joe, waiting for me to finish with the guilt and the spazzing and just sit down to work.

I have a pile of papers with the skeletal outlines of characters who will become living, breathing, imperfect, searching, beautiful people...if I do my job right. I must allow these people to tell me who they are and what they need to say. I, my analysis and my perfectionism, need to step aside and let these people speak.

Today is a big day.