Here's... questions
I'm happy to say I'm back in the swing of things. Supportive friends of mine ask me sometimes if I've been writing, and it's a difficult question to answer for me, like most. I work on stories pretty much everyday, after all, ponder on how to improve things I've written and on how to improve on things I've even yet to write. There's even some storytelling in my hobbies that make me think on character development, story pacing, and line writing. Ultimately though, for the past month and a half, the answer to the question has been no, I haven't been writing. But all that changed this Sunday.
Now I'm back to lying awake on nights late in the week looking into the mental file of an outline I have in my head. I think about what's happening next, and why it's important, who's involved, and where their place is in the overall setting. Lately, I would say my excitement over it has to do a lot with its familiarity. When it's all said and done, I might have been doing it wrong this entire time, but even if that's the case, I have doing it wrong down pat. Recently, some changes in my life led me to believe that things aren't going to be as easy for me as they could be, which makes the familiar seem safe and contenting. I'm not sure yet what to do with that realization.
In other news, my brain has had other thoughts. For anyone who reads this diatribe of mine, you might also know that I've wrestled with content for a long time. My mentor described the subject matter of my recent novels as a phase. A close friend said that it was regrettable someone with my predilection chose the subject manners in question. And most recently, a reviewer attached phrases like "too literary" and "esoteric" to my first novel, which includes words like "vampire" and "magic." In lieu of that, almost as if my brain had decided it was all true, I happened upon an idea for a contemporary novel. What's more, it stuck, and the characters, the conversations, the situations have all become much more clear in recent days.
If only my biggest problem was to decide which story to write first. But then, I wonder who among us gets to decide what our biggest problem is? They come to us, primarily, they affect us most directly, and we're the only ones who can claim such situations as ours, so why can't we? Another question without an answer, like a sentence without punctuation. Or a simile without the words like or as... which isn't a simile at all anymore.
On the one hand, I feel like I'm a little lost in a giant hotel with no employees or helpful signage. On the other hand, I'm writing again, so despite everything I still feel kind of great.
Now I'm back to lying awake on nights late in the week looking into the mental file of an outline I have in my head. I think about what's happening next, and why it's important, who's involved, and where their place is in the overall setting. Lately, I would say my excitement over it has to do a lot with its familiarity. When it's all said and done, I might have been doing it wrong this entire time, but even if that's the case, I have doing it wrong down pat. Recently, some changes in my life led me to believe that things aren't going to be as easy for me as they could be, which makes the familiar seem safe and contenting. I'm not sure yet what to do with that realization.
In other news, my brain has had other thoughts. For anyone who reads this diatribe of mine, you might also know that I've wrestled with content for a long time. My mentor described the subject matter of my recent novels as a phase. A close friend said that it was regrettable someone with my predilection chose the subject manners in question. And most recently, a reviewer attached phrases like "too literary" and "esoteric" to my first novel, which includes words like "vampire" and "magic." In lieu of that, almost as if my brain had decided it was all true, I happened upon an idea for a contemporary novel. What's more, it stuck, and the characters, the conversations, the situations have all become much more clear in recent days.
If only my biggest problem was to decide which story to write first. But then, I wonder who among us gets to decide what our biggest problem is? They come to us, primarily, they affect us most directly, and we're the only ones who can claim such situations as ours, so why can't we? Another question without an answer, like a sentence without punctuation. Or a simile without the words like or as... which isn't a simile at all anymore.
On the one hand, I feel like I'm a little lost in a giant hotel with no employees or helpful signage. On the other hand, I'm writing again, so despite everything I still feel kind of great.
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