Last night I watched some TV, not “The Voice,” but a cop show, er writer show, oh well it was “Castle,” there was a story and a woman died due to a gunshot wound and then there was a murder to be solved. I loved every second.
I haven’t’ seen an episode of “Castle,” or anything else for that matter, since I moved into Duncanville, almost 5 years ago. (Apparently the show is canceled but you can still see some of it on the CTV website.) SO Sunday night, not wanting to do anything more, I curled up with my computer and watched Nathan Fillion and friends.
And my imagination was off, I wanted to meet all the boys in the show, I made this week Nathan Fillion week when people asked who he was, I told them “my boyfriend for the day.” About a year and a half ago my anti depressants were increased and I don’t want anything to do with real boys; But put them on TV for 45 minutes, give them speaking parts and guns and a hot hair do and I’m interested. I wanted to get my writing done and move to the city and get in the middle of that shit again. That fantasy that “action” and “cut;” The make up and the lights, that’s a part of me I haven’t had the power to face in years. I wanted to tell stories like that. Now it’s time to heal that part.
The ultimate way to tell stories. My mind explodes and, for a moment, forgets it has to start at the begging. The sitting, the writing the editing. But maybe I remembered where it could go and why I like to do it. Maybe TV is a drug and I’m addicted again.
I like to have stories told to me invented for me. I loved working on my novel because of the relationship between the two characters. I fell in love with their relationship but still couldn’t finish the story. Am I allowed to say I love TV shows? I’m fascinated by little 45 minute stories and the people who “tell” them. Am I allowed to succeed even further with the help of the RED PENS. AM I allowed to dig in deep and get all the feels like I do from other people’s work. YES, of course.
And my imaginary boyfriends. TV is a great place to get imaginary boyfriends.
I imagine meeting up with the people I went to school with. The ones who doubted me, the ones I felt I was struggling to survive with, the ones who weren’t sure how to take me and say “Guess what… I’m not as famous as you, But I survived . I'm still alive and I still have time...