That Moment...

I feel like you and I have so much in common. Lol.

 

TMW you start listening to the podcast, Serial and it rules your life.

 

TMW you realize that with just a tweak of your character's ethnicity in your fantasy, the whole story and POV of the story changes.

TMW you realize that even the most minor detail such as ethnicity can decide how and where your story will go down.

TMW you think up of a fantasy story set in the 'prequel' of your main fantasy (ie, the two major adult characters are the protagonists and in their mid-teens) and find their adventure a whole lot more compelling than the one you're writing right now. (ie, serious magic and epic battles among the gods sort of thing.) WHY YOU DO THIS TO ME, CHARACTERS!? WHY?!

TMW you are exploring an old water treatment plant in Fallout 4 and the switches to lower the water levels remind you of the Water Temples from Zelda: Ocarina of Time and Zelda: Majora's Mask. You then half-expect to see Link pop out of nowhere and help your character out and can't quit humming the Zelda theme.

 

That moment when you're disappointed that you weren't offered any pot today, and then your anxiety punches you in the face and calls you a selfish little shit for expecting anyone to share their pot with you but it's Christmas!?

 

You should bonk your stupid anxiety to death. With a crossguard lightsaber.

<bonks your anxiety to death>

TMW you've had a wonderful Christmas and are kind of sad it's five hours away from being not Christmas. :>

 

That moment when a whale bonks your anxiety to death with a lightsaber.

 

Here's some pot for you.

 

Maaaan, that some vanilla shit right there.

 

TMW you feel like a superhero 'cause you woke up at 8 am on Sunday, biked 5 miles to the stables when it was -6 C outside, rode for an hour, did some barn work, biked back, and made an effing fruit smoothie for breakfast.

I later rectified this perilously goody-two-shoes situation with a huge chocolate bar and 3-hour nap.

TMW you realize you're a lazy bastard and your biggest achievement of the day would've made your parents laugh their asses off.

 

TMW writing notes for your characters and setting feels very, very complicated. Like writing itself.

 

TMW...

You gather up very early versions of your Colonial mystery draft so you don't have to re-invent the wheel as you plan to get serious about this (finally) and write it. You look at it and cringe with horror, yet are impressed with how far a minor character had evolved in your head: from a typical asshole who belittles the main character to a cranky old man with good intentions and cares about the main character. TMW where you can at least give yourself credit for that.

TMW you realize that compared to your initial drafts, your writing had actually improved! Excellent!

 

TMW a memory is faded beyond repair and you wonder why you're holding on to the memory of a memory.

 

That happens to me.

TMW you have a faint memory of something, but the source of it, and why it's caused this memory to be ingrained into your mind has been lost to time and history.

 

That Moment you run across a Yoututbe video that is so disturbing it makes you laugh your ass off.

 

The Moment when you're torn between your own morbid curiosity and your own sanity.

No...I cannot...I mustn't click...!!!

 

Click it! Click it! Click it! You'll never be the same afterwards, BUT it's worth it!

 

<sighs>

Goddamit, Lew. If I get nightmares, there shall be hell to pay.

<....clicks....>

 

CRAZY! I worked with a guy when he shot himself in the foot with a nail gun, once. Going too fast in a dim basement, not that it wasn't out of character for him. Then they almost tipped him over when he was strapped to the stretcher cuz the rookie paramedic tried to turn it on the grass at the side door. Must've leaned at least twenty degrees.

 

Two words, salad tongs.

 

I watched the whole thing. Outside of a few of those cases...

WHAT THE FLIP IS WRONG WITH YOU, HUMANS!?!

But still, thanks for that.

 

You gotta give 'em top marks for creativity, though...it's makes me feel inadequate as a writer.

 

In my entire life, I don't think I'll ever have a character that decides that the best solution to his/her problem is to shove a pair of salad tongs up his/her ass.

 

But how did that guy sit down in his car to drive himself to the hospital?

 

How do you know he wasn't airlifted? You can't let the batteries die on those things.

 

That moment you realize you may not be much of a writer anymore (if you ever were), but hope that some of the information you provide on the forum is useful for someone.