I write like I puke

I write like I puke.

The title says it all.

It was one of those epiphanies I had yesterday driving home that I don't write. I just puke up a bunch of words. They pour out of my system in a rush all mixed up and scatter all over. And, like vomiting, there are earthquake-like after-pukes that stem from the first one. Smaller, not as violent, but there's still an out rush of words, pouring out, scattering all over.

Well, I may have heaved my last this week. In looking over what I've written so far, I pleased with the story, but not the progress. It's like I've gotten the poison peanut out of my system, but I can't quite get rid of that queasy smell.

So in an attempt to make things flow better, I've decided to set aside the outpouring of words from my fingers and instead focus on organizing the story. A pre-planning of puke if you will. Like a teenage girl with an eating disorder, I need to focus on puking these words up everyday. I need goals I can achieve.

So my daily writing goal is going to be 3 pages.

And I've failed already. It's like the dry heaves. Nothing comes out no matter how hard I try.

So my new goal is to organize what I've already puked up. Which is like trying to re-assemble that slice of pizza after it's been in your stomach for a few hours. The pepperoni might be easy to spot, but the pizza sauce is going to be hard to pick out.

But in the end, I should have a decent outline. Something I should have done to start with according to nearly every doctor I've spoken to and read. Plan the puke first, then puke, then polish.

So I'm hoping to take a vomit vacation of sorts and get my ideas in a neat little outline.

Maybe then my daily hurl won't hurt so much.

Anyone want spaghetti?

* I take no responsibility for loss of appetite resulting in the reading of this post.