Countering Productivity

I have stumbled around this week in somewhat of a daze, seeing as to how the Fiery Redhead is gone, and I am left to fall back into my routine of waking up at 6 AM, writing, working out, then traipsing over the hill to work.  These past two days, I even opened up the novel, read through it, and polished, something I've been dreading for a month.  The skeleton is there, I can sense it, but I don't like writing prose with outlines.  I think this is because outlines are so vital to my own script-writing process/understanding structure that I want to play in my prose.  But as we all know, playing can get you into trouble.  Regardless, I am trying very hard not to force anything, not to put anything on the page unless it kinda tumbles from my head and out through my fingers and I don't feel like I am overthinking it.  This is very difficult.  This is worthy of fear.

Lucky for me I have an entire writers' support group - the writers on my show are fantastic.  We eat lunch together in the writers' room every day.  Today was no different, except one of my colleagues went on a first date last night.  Now, I gave up dating long ago.  I find it tiresome.  I would like someone to curl up next to, because the thought of dating makes me tired, but I know I cannot find that person unless I agree to date, so I will continue with the Tylenol PM/Dawson's Creek watching to help me fall asleep.  Anyway, back to today, when my colleague was describing her date, then wondering when she should expect a follow-up.  Of course, the other writers wanted to know who he was, what he did, what he looked like, so I piped up, "Did you google him?"  CUT TO:  EVERYONE looking at me like I was crazy.  Perhaps it all would have worked out just fine, had I not decided to dig myself out of the hole with, "What?  I google myself every day."

That's right.  I do.  And I have yet to do anything amazing, according to that silly search engine.