(no subject)
I've been wanting to respond to what I got from the Anon Writing Feedback Meme, but I've been having a hard time addressing what was said. Trust me, whoever you two are, if you're reading this, I deeply appreciate the words, and I thank you for replying. And I'm sorry it took so long for me to say something back. It's because both people said something that really hit me. The first being that I obsess too much over details and it kills my flow. The second being that my "block" is because I'm looking for a new story to tell.
Both observations are incredibly fucking true.
I'm going on nearly four months without writing now, ever since my surgery, and this has, as I've said before, been remarkably different from my various phases of burn-out and writer's block. I've coasted the first few months, but now I'm getting to a point where I'm becoming frustrated. Because I want to write now. And ever since I read what was said on that FB meme, my brain swings back to that: being too much of a perfectionist, and wanting a new story to tell.
The irony is that I was telling yesdrizella the other day about how much I want to write Pinto. I said, somewhat facetiously, that I've spent the last eight years writing about being on the road, being in the spotlight, of a life lived in hotel rooms, of relationships strained by the pressure of the business. I WAS MADE TO WRITE RPS.
Except, you know, I really ought to find a new story to tell. Which I don't think is the commenter's point. (BTW, are you opera142? It sounds like something Opera would tell me) But just. It's all part and parcel of my personality disorder, I guess. Being a control freak. Of wanting to get shit right. I tell the same story over and over, because of successive reiteration. If I tell it enough times, in enough different ways, certainly I will get it Just Right this time.
Anyway, I don't really have a point. No epiphany here, really. Because this is shit I already know about myself, but I find it really fascinating when my issues are echoed back at me from other people. At least I'm obvious and consistent. I don't feel like I can say I'm really gonna be able to not be crazy about details, and I'm not sure I DO have more than just that handful of stories I keep telling over and over. But at the very least, I feel like the ideas I've got going right now, in my head, are strangely a reflection of all that's come before and yet maybe kinda fresh at the same time, and I've yet to spend four hours on one useless fucking detail. So that's something.
If only I could, you know, write. Sigh.
Both observations are incredibly fucking true.
I'm going on nearly four months without writing now, ever since my surgery, and this has, as I've said before, been remarkably different from my various phases of burn-out and writer's block. I've coasted the first few months, but now I'm getting to a point where I'm becoming frustrated. Because I want to write now. And ever since I read what was said on that FB meme, my brain swings back to that: being too much of a perfectionist, and wanting a new story to tell.
The irony is that I was telling yesdrizella the other day about how much I want to write Pinto. I said, somewhat facetiously, that I've spent the last eight years writing about being on the road, being in the spotlight, of a life lived in hotel rooms, of relationships strained by the pressure of the business. I WAS MADE TO WRITE RPS.
Except, you know, I really ought to find a new story to tell. Which I don't think is the commenter's point. (BTW, are you opera142? It sounds like something Opera would tell me) But just. It's all part and parcel of my personality disorder, I guess. Being a control freak. Of wanting to get shit right. I tell the same story over and over, because of successive reiteration. If I tell it enough times, in enough different ways, certainly I will get it Just Right this time.
Anyway, I don't really have a point. No epiphany here, really. Because this is shit I already know about myself, but I find it really fascinating when my issues are echoed back at me from other people. At least I'm obvious and consistent. I don't feel like I can say I'm really gonna be able to not be crazy about details, and I'm not sure I DO have more than just that handful of stories I keep telling over and over. But at the very least, I feel like the ideas I've got going right now, in my head, are strangely a reflection of all that's come before and yet maybe kinda fresh at the same time, and I've yet to spend four hours on one useless fucking detail. So that's something.
If only I could, you know, write. Sigh.