Writing Junk

Wed. Word Count: 605 (ewww, yesterday was just one of those days)

You see my pathetic word count? The problem I'm having is keeping that internal editor at bay. Now I've gotten to where I don't go back and revise/edit/delete as I go....but my eyes still jump to the previous paragraphs while I try to move forward. I don't delete it, but I sigh and that irritating editor says, "That's junk!" So, I'm going to post yesterday's junk, an excerpt if you will, from a new novel I'm working on. Although my goal was to put 25,000 words into Audra....well, it's not working that way. I had another idea and I had to get it out before I lost it. So, the working title on this one is Stolen Years.

The next morning, school took a backseat to calling funeral homes and making arrangements. A sort of numb professionalism seemed to take over as I spoke with various different people about burying my mother. Each funeral director sounded exactly the same. They talked with a somber and sympathetic tone using all the politically correct terms for the loved one that has passed on. I figured out why they all spoke so softly as they repeated prices. Apparently, it costs just as much to die as it does to be born.

The first man seemed offended when I asked about a plywood box. The second man informed me that it must be pine and while it was cheaper, it still would drain my savings. I knew Sassy had no money put away.
The last man I spoke to had a southern drawl and an unusually loud voice.

“We do offer payment plans when such a tragedy occurs,” he informed me.

“It’s no tragedy, okay?” My patience wore thin with the endless fake apathy. “This woman was a menace, I don’t expect anyone would attend a service if there was one. How much would it cost to burn her?”

I heard the sharp intake of breath. “Cremation would cost one thousand dollars and we have a wide variety of urns to choose from. The cheapest is two hundred and fifty dollars.” He obviously realized I was in no mood to be sentimental about it.

“Done. Now what is the process?”

“You’ll need to come in and sign some paperwork, choose your urn and we’ll call you when it’s ready. I suppose there is not a service we need to have the, ah, cremains ready for?”

Finally someone that understood. “Take your time.”

I hung up the phone and mentally checked off the first accomplishment of the day. Now it was time to get rid of all that reminded me of Sassy. I went to her room and began the daunting task of going through the clothes in her closet. She had stopped wearing much of anything other than her pink robe the past few months. I was glad that went with her. I wondered if it would be burned too. I shook my head, the strangest thoughts kept invading my stream of consciousness.

First, it should be said that I normally write in third person past. This is totally different for me, but this girl in my head won't shut up!! Oh, what a dilemma. I figured though, if I put it on my blog then it's open for the whole world to see that first drafts are crap. Junk. Thoughts swirling that have to be put on a page. Then we tweak and revise, delete and add. It's so easy to say that's what will happen, but then my brain interferes and seems to do exactly what it wants to do. Show my work to the editor that hates it. :)

I think that's all I have to say for today. Thank you for the rousing discussion after yesterday's post. I really enjoyed reading all the comments!! I'm glad everyone chimed in.

Just a quick note-when I hit 30 supporters, I plan on having a blogolicious party. :-) Including a giveaway, so keep your eyes peeled! Have a great Thursday, everyone!!