Mind like a steel trap - impenetrable [Monday, Jun. 04, 2007, 10:30 pm]
I feel like I'm stuck in the boondocks. Motivationally, that is.
I know it's in there. It's been speaking to me in fragments and voices and scenes for years. But it's a shy little creature. Unless it grows on its own, it has to be forced out with a crowbar. And I'm not really a crowbar type of writer.
When a piece is finally wedged out into the open, it still retains its shape, like frozen pizza dough. I want it to thaw and move, instead of staying the same shape as my mental alcove. No one else could understand it that way. I want to be able to knead it around without feeling like I'm either making no impact at all, or killing it.
I don't even know what type of writer I am. A lazy one? Is there such a thing? I'm writing right now. It's not that I don't know how. I just don't like reaching. I make too big a deal of it, like always. It scares me until I actually do it.
I think my mistake in the past (one of them, anyway) is that I tried a little too hard to emulate some of my favorite authors. I mean, Lewis and Tolkien and Bronte were already Lewis and Tolkien and Bronte - they don't need another wannabe. My first unfinished story. 60 pages. Little people with pointy ears who live underground? An (unwritten) apocalypse at the end? That's been done before. But I still wanted to do it. I need to write and stick with something that's really me, rather than "The Chronicles of the Lord of Jane Eyre"
I need routine! My hours at work have been all over the place, but hopefully now things are smoothing out a little. Maybe now I'll exercise more often, and do more important things daily, instead of weekly. And stop being stupid. For a few days, anyway.
Vitality - Tuesday, Aug. 11, 2009