My latest affliction is exhausting. I am writing fiction in my sleep. Does this happen to any of you writers out there? Or am I just mighty-near certifiable? I’ve heard and read of people finishing novels, starting novels, and getting great ideas in their sleep.
This is not. I repeat. Not. Happening to me.
I am writing complete nonsense in my sleep. I am attempting humor fiction, and yet those all-important punch lines never come. I struggle through the night on the same piece (of dream writing) and even wake up in a cold sweat much of the time. I am feverishly attempting suspense and who-done-it fiction as well, and I never come up with an ending. Or much of a beginning, for that matter.
It’s wearing my writerly ass out, people.
Oh I could handle the whole thing if I actually got something out of it I could use.
Again. I repeat. Not happening.
For example, last night I was working on a dream piece where the guy from the cartoon Family Guy left the show and attempted to make his own new life working in an office in AbsolutelyNowheresville, USA. Of course, in my dreams, he was real. He just looked like a cartoon guy. And, in my dreams, he thought he was very funny. And yet, the idiot could not come up with one single funny statement in the whole dream piece.
I’m worn out, I tell you. You don’t understand how hard I worked on that storyline in my sleep! Seriously, I had him sweating all the time, and in my sleep that was hilarious. Turned out, it was me doing all the sweating.
Which may or may not be a little bit funny. You can laugh at my expense, if you wish. I won’t take it personally.
Ok maybe that’s a stretch, but I’m trying to salvage something from my wasted night’s non-productive sleep, for crying out loud.
Still another example is the murder mystery I was trying to write the other night. I remember it very well, and I usually don’t remember dreams very clearly. In that dream, I was writing about a fava bean loving serial killer as the bad guy and an attractive female FBI agent as the heroine.
Yes, I was writing Silence of the Lambs in my sleep. Only, MY version, which was not even close to good or even interesting. It just was. And I dreamed about it the whole night. I would wake up and go to the bathroom, then go back to sleep and continue the dream.
Certifiable? I think maybe it’s time to solidify this diagnosis.
One point in MY Silence of the Lambs, I entered the story, as myself. I guess I had one of two objectives:
- The heroine wasn’t getting the job done. (and if you want something done, do it yourself, right?)
- I was hot for the heroine.
The only problem with my entering the story was that I never accomplished either of my two objectives. In fact, I just kinda stood there and watched everything, adding completely non-pertinent comment randomly. At one point, Clarisse told me to shut up. It pissed me off a little bit, I do remember that. I even thought about writing myself out of the story. That would have shown her! But I didn’t. Probably because of objective number 2 above.
Yes, it was twisted, people. All night. Just sayin…
I was freaking exhausted and had nothing to show for it.
Have I illustrated my predicament enough? It’s mind-blowing.
It’s sleep deprivation through dream writing.
I think it might be a thing.
Please tell me someone out there dream writes without decent results….please.
After all, misery does love company. And I need some company.
And a good night’s sleep.
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