My Brain is a Whiny Little B*tch

Did you ever get into an argument with yourself over something you wanted to do, but your brain wouldn’t let you?

Anybody?

No?

Oh come on. What about that time you had to study for an exam or prepare a presentation for work, but your brain refused to cooperate? You end up reading the same page umpteen times but your mind refuses to absorb the material. You keep making the same mistake on your PowerPoint, even though you know it’s wrong.

So, what do you do? You throw the book across the room, or slam closed the laptop – taking your frustration out on poor, innocent inanimate objects when it’s really your brain that needs a kick in the arse, or at least a slap to the frontal lobe.

This is the conundrum I find myself in as I attempt to craft an at least reasonably enjoyable story for the Fantasy Fiction Challenge. I got nothing! Nada. Zilch. Bupkus (whatever that means.)

I don’t read Fantasy stories, I don’t watch Fantasy movies or TV shows. I’m probably one of the few people in the FB writing groups who has never watched Game of Thrones or read ....... ??

A perfect indication of how maliciously uncooperative my brain is being, is that I can’t even remember the title of possibly the most famous fantasy fiction ever - the trilogy with hobbits and other stuff I also can’t think of. You know what I mean, I’m sure. I could look it up, but that would be letting the disgusting, gigantic walnut win. I certainly don’t want to do that. I don’t want to concede defeat to a miserable pinkish-grey blob of blood vessels and nerve fibres that looks like something my cat might have thrown up.

So, I try to reason with it. I try to convince my brain that writing this story is a good idea. I try reminding it that there’s a pretty decent chunk of change available to be won, and that we may have a chance, if only it would be willing to help me. I try negotiating. Then I try writing.

Four hundred words later, the conversation begins, and goes something like this:

Brain: What the hell is that?

Cathy: It’s the story we’re writing for the Dragon Challenge.

Brain: I didn’t write that.

Cathy: Uh, yeah you did.

Brain: Uh, no I didn’t.

Cathy: It took thought to get it out of my head. It took movement to type it on to the screen. It took sight. It took action. It took reasoning. Obviously, it came from you.

Brain: Looks more like something that came outta your ass.

Cathy: What?

Brain: I didn’t write that crap.

Cathy: Fine. You wanna start again?

Brain: No

Cathy: Why not? What’s wrong with you?

Brain: I told you. I’m not writing a fantasy story. I don’t want to.

Cathy: But it’s a ten thousand dollar challenge!

Brain: I don’t care. You won’t share with me anyway.

Cathy: What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Brain: Well, what are you gonna buy me.

Cathy: What? Everything I buy is for you.

Brain: Last time you went shopping, you bought clothes. Those weren’t for me.

Cathy: Fine, I’ll buy you a hat.

Brain: I don’t wear hats, you knob. I have a skull. What are you going to buy me?

Cathy: How about a fantasy fiction novel?

Brain: Ha ha. Nice try. What are you gonna buy me?

Cathy: Can we stop this silliness, and just finish my challenge entry?

Brain: No

Cathy: Come on! Why are you being like this?

Brain: How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t want to write a fantasy fiction story.

Cathy: Well I do, so stop being so cantankerous.

Brain: I said no, and that’s my final answer.

Cathy: Behave, or you’re getting a lobotomy!

(Cathy is momentarily paralyzed by the agonizing sensation of an internal sledgehammer to the temples, while simultaneously blinded by lightning bolts zigzagging across her eyeballs.)

Cathy: Whoa! What did you do that for? Holy Crap!

Brain: Because you were mean to me.

Cathy: Fine, I’m sorry. Can we get back to my story now?

Brain: No. Write something else. Maybe I’ll let you write a fantasy story later. Maybe.

Cathy: But I want to write it now. I don’t have much time left.

Brain: I said no. Write something else.

Cathy: Pleeeeaaaasseee.

Brain: Now who’s being a whiny little bitch?

Cathy: You’re an ass.

Brain: You’re an idiot. You don’t even know anatomy.

Cathy: Huh?

Brain: Shut up and write.

So, as it stands I am no closer to completing or even continuing past the four hundred or so words I’ve had for over a week. I’m sure I’ll get around to trying again at some point before the challenge is closed. Whether or not my brain will be willing to cooperate is a battle I’ll face when I get there. In the meantime, anyone know where I can get that lobotomy booked?

(Cathy takes a seizure.)