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The weird thing about forcing yourself (to actually be somewhat disciplined) to write (almost) everyday is that if you take a break from it, you instantly feel reluctant to dive back in, in fact you get pretty consumed by laziness all around. And by you I mean me, of course. :)
Actually, that's not even the weirdest thing. The weirdest thing is how out of control it makes me feel pressing forward without stopping to really edit anything, although I've noticed a general decline in control in my stories for several years now. Starting with the very short, tightly written stories I used to do to the giant, rambling epics I seem to write now, things have gotten a lot looser, and I'm not sure I'm entirely a fan of that. On one hand the characters are important, on the other, they shouldn't be telling me what to do all the time.
(Though perhaps my writing hasn't really changed all that much, but my life has, and the sense of being out of control is just a reflection of that stress. And blah blah, control is an illusion blah blah. In real life it is. In a story I don't know that it should be. But then I've often had the sense in general that my fiction is just...weird...all the way around. Not especially good or bad...just...different. I've had more than one remark that my style--whatever it may be--takes some getting used to. So...where was I going with that? Rambling again...)
But speaking of writing, the urge to keep going is, at the same time, very strong. I want this bitch out of my head and I want it out now, and my pace, faster than usual yes, is still somehow too slow. And at the same time there's this vague sense that I'm writing, if not crap, then not my best, because of how fast I'm going. But if I stop for too long, I'm not going to want to keep going, for I am chubby, lazy monster when I want to be.
And, why yes, this was supposed to fun for me. A fun little project, and in a way, it is. For I was raised Catholic and apparently thrive on anguish. :P In fact, I'm sure a lot of writers fret and flail this much. (Except of course, that they are writing like...art) The fretting and flailing is probably part of the process I just wish I was a little farther along in the process.
(Or should I mention that I have a milestone b-day approaching and am having a general "my life sucks" "I've accomplished nothing" etc etc freak out and that perhaps getting this bitch out of me is connected to that, even though it's hardly the Great American Novel? But honestly, have you ever had people and their histories--and futures--in your head for a long period of time? It's maddening. Something happens and all you can think is, "I wonder what Charlie or Rene would say if he saw that?" grrrr)
So um...spend a whole day reading through Vanity Fair and then have a Cabaret day? Or just mess around on Youtube and at least do notes for another scene?
cross posted from dreamwidth
Actually, that's not even the weirdest thing. The weirdest thing is how out of control it makes me feel pressing forward without stopping to really edit anything, although I've noticed a general decline in control in my stories for several years now. Starting with the very short, tightly written stories I used to do to the giant, rambling epics I seem to write now, things have gotten a lot looser, and I'm not sure I'm entirely a fan of that. On one hand the characters are important, on the other, they shouldn't be telling me what to do all the time.
(Though perhaps my writing hasn't really changed all that much, but my life has, and the sense of being out of control is just a reflection of that stress. And blah blah, control is an illusion blah blah. In real life it is. In a story I don't know that it should be. But then I've often had the sense in general that my fiction is just...weird...all the way around. Not especially good or bad...just...different. I've had more than one remark that my style--whatever it may be--takes some getting used to. So...where was I going with that? Rambling again...)
But speaking of writing, the urge to keep going is, at the same time, very strong. I want this bitch out of my head and I want it out now, and my pace, faster than usual yes, is still somehow too slow. And at the same time there's this vague sense that I'm writing, if not crap, then not my best, because of how fast I'm going. But if I stop for too long, I'm not going to want to keep going, for I am chubby, lazy monster when I want to be.
And, why yes, this was supposed to fun for me. A fun little project, and in a way, it is. For I was raised Catholic and apparently thrive on anguish. :P In fact, I'm sure a lot of writers fret and flail this much. (Except of course, that they are writing like...art) The fretting and flailing is probably part of the process I just wish I was a little farther along in the process.
(Or should I mention that I have a milestone b-day approaching and am having a general "my life sucks" "I've accomplished nothing" etc etc freak out and that perhaps getting this bitch out of me is connected to that, even though it's hardly the Great American Novel? But honestly, have you ever had people and their histories--and futures--in your head for a long period of time? It's maddening. Something happens and all you can think is, "I wonder what Charlie or Rene would say if he saw that?" grrrr)
So um...spend a whole day reading through Vanity Fair and then have a Cabaret day? Or just mess around on Youtube and at least do notes for another scene?
cross posted from dreamwidth
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