Aftermath

[vaneramos]

Writing is an adventure. The problem is, if you're willing to lose control and let the characters tell their story, it takes on a life of it's own and you can't be sure where it will lead. Tonight I had in mind to write a warm tale of gentle flirtation, but what emerged tore me to pieces more than anything I've written before, even more than Trent's crisis in Pilgrim's Cross.

I have some qualms, not because of the content, but because I usually write linear narratives and this was an extreme departure. I can't guarantee Barbara will choose to read it tonight. Regardless, I'll post it here tomorrow behind a cut. I'll be interested to hear any comments.

Perhaps a long shower is in order.

Comments

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

Have you read any of the books on writing by Natalie Goldberg? I particularly recommend Writing Down the Bones, and Wild Mind.

It might be worthwhile to break past that preciousness of the written word. Consider how the expense of film inhibits experimentation in photography. The same is true if we view everything we write as valuable. The hours I devote to writing are indeed valuable because the process and practice are worthwhile, but the words themselves I regard as raw material, much of which gets sculpted and discarded. Even if the words seem stupid or boring, I usually have to write them and get them out of the way before the vivid ones will come.

I would never throw anything away, and in that sense everything is precious. I have about 40 spiralbound notebooks I've filled since New Years 1997, mostly with nonsense and tedious fussing, not worth reading. The only way to be a writer is to keep that blank page open in front of me, and keep filling it, so I'll be ready and attentive when ideas strike. I spend about 25 minutes a day writing three lined pages (my morning pages). And I post 200 words per day to LJ. Besides showering, eating and sleeping, these are my two most consistent habits.