fire it up, fire it up
Novel status as of 10/3: roughly 21,000 words. This sounds great, but they're 21,000 words that aren't really connected. Just floating around in empty novel space, waiting for an appropriate nest. My problem is fitting scenes together, weaving them so that they flow. Makes sense since I've never been good with transitions. Seriously. I can write wonderful paragraphs, but connecting them is such a foreign idea to me. My brain doesn't connect with strong transition from one thought to the next; it just jumps. Sure, it jumps logically. I might start thinking about the TN Aquarium, then consider how much I don't like ducks, then trace that back to a time when Oma & Opa took us duck-feeding and the geese chased me onto a table, then think about picnic tables and how they always seem to be wet, then think about Valentine's Day with Jeremy at Chester Frost and how we never seem to take picnics when the weather is moderate, it always has to be extremely hot or freezing, then think about how he proposed in August and how much my leg sweated even though I was wearing a dress, and then think about the time I ripped that dress on the car last year but I still wear it because it's Jeremy's favorite...
Etc.
But mostly when I write I think about who will be reading it, which is one of those things They warn you of when you start writing. The upside & downside to getting an MA in Creative Writing is the class structure/composition. Having people to mingle with/bounce ideas off of/receive constructive criticism from is nice; but having them as a constant and actual audience is another thing. I seem to always want to write with Someone in mind. Even this LiveJournal. Yes, it's a public journal so I should expect readership, but I mean on a more personal level, I write FOR people. Not to them or about them. I'm not quite getting at what I mean. Anyway. There are my troubles at the moment.
Life's good right now though. My life's 99% easy, which makes me wary & puts me on edge. I expect disaster. Is that odd? No, I guess it isn't. But it also makes me paranoid. Slightly. I tell Brandon all the time in class that stuff just doesn't bother me, but it's a lie. Lots of things bother me. Not writing stuff. I may worry about who I'm pandering to & how my work will all fit together, but I don't obsess like he does over word count and deadlines and requirements. I do worry about lots of things, though. Life things. As blessed & easy as my life is, I always expect there's something lurking. And that's what I stress over. He (Brandon) told me last week that I should be worrying about stuff because I'm married. I wonder what that meant. For the record, it's wonderful to have befriended him. His stories are interesting, and his novel, if executed appropriately, will be entertaining in the same way that John Irving is entertaining; unabashed realism. We've had every class together and will continue to do so until we graduate. Strange & nice how life works out like that.
Haven't stayed up this late in a while.
Etc.
But mostly when I write I think about who will be reading it, which is one of those things They warn you of when you start writing. The upside & downside to getting an MA in Creative Writing is the class structure/composition. Having people to mingle with/bounce ideas off of/receive constructive criticism from is nice; but having them as a constant and actual audience is another thing. I seem to always want to write with Someone in mind. Even this LiveJournal. Yes, it's a public journal so I should expect readership, but I mean on a more personal level, I write FOR people. Not to them or about them. I'm not quite getting at what I mean. Anyway. There are my troubles at the moment.
Life's good right now though. My life's 99% easy, which makes me wary & puts me on edge. I expect disaster. Is that odd? No, I guess it isn't. But it also makes me paranoid. Slightly. I tell Brandon all the time in class that stuff just doesn't bother me, but it's a lie. Lots of things bother me. Not writing stuff. I may worry about who I'm pandering to & how my work will all fit together, but I don't obsess like he does over word count and deadlines and requirements. I do worry about lots of things, though. Life things. As blessed & easy as my life is, I always expect there's something lurking. And that's what I stress over. He (Brandon) told me last week that I should be worrying about stuff because I'm married. I wonder what that meant. For the record, it's wonderful to have befriended him. His stories are interesting, and his novel, if executed appropriately, will be entertaining in the same way that John Irving is entertaining; unabashed realism. We've had every class together and will continue to do so until we graduate. Strange & nice how life works out like that.
Haven't stayed up this late in a while.