Tonight would have been an ordinary, boring night, if not for one thing.
I ate a mediocre dinner suitable for a college freshman and watched a movie I’d give, at best a C+…honestly, Tim Burton must stop remaking things like Alice in Wonderland, etc. before these image-heavy, story-lacking films start giving him a bad name.
What made the night interesting, however, was a call from my mother. I’m a bit sick and that’s something for which mothers are well known. My daily alarm advising me to write went off while I was on the phone with her and I told her why I had the daily alarm after she inquired. At the end of the call, though, she told me to a) get some rest, but also to “go write.”
I admit this didn’t set me into a tizzy of literary inspiration or vigor, but it did make me smile, at least on the inside, since I feel so rotten on the outside of myself. For most of my life, I’ve always thought she looked at my writing as a waste of time and talent that could be better spent elsewhere, but tonight she gave me a bit of encouragement to write. I have to say that I find that rather extraordinary.
I wrote 425 words tonight (speak to him again for the rest of the day) and finished another chapter of Damen. All in all, my mother made me feel quite extraordinary tonight.