5.4.12
I have decided to spend the next while writing at least one hundred words a day. Why? I don't really know. Probably something to do with wanting to be more creative and things like that. I'm not sure how long this will go for, but wish me luck.
The problem is I get to a point in writing when I just don't really know where to go. I'm here and I want to go on, but the words aren't really there. Or I worry about the previous words, editing and tweaking until there I reach that same dead end. Seriously, on the bus ride home I thought of all sorts of awesome things to write and how creative and magical the words would sound
in my head they dance and sing but paper and letters don't dance and when was the last time these fonts sang?
For me anyways.
I think moving away from the conventional might help
It's going anyways.
For example
Everyday walking home I pass a cat
not the same cat
a different cat
Every day, a different cat. Sometimes many cats
And I think
I should write a story
about a girl who goes to the land of cats
or maybe it's about a cat
who guards the land of cats
or a boy
(less autobiographical, is that why so many women write male characters?)
but anyways
Cats are involved. Obviously.
And in my mind this world of cats is so epic and wonderful
that it's so natural it is obvious
and I feel that it must exist somewhere
and I'm sure it does
so I just tell myself a little story
about a cat who asks a riddle
(what walks on four legs in the morning-)
and how something is wrong in the land of cats
but a little girl who feels alone
will save the day
-awesome plot-
the end
Only the end feels so far away
and I can never quite finish the story
Maybe because I like the beginning so much.
Full of possibilities and wonder and singing and dancing.
The middle is rude and lazy and in the way
The end seems so lovely but always a step ahead
teasing and beautifully unavailable.
Word Count: 372
The problem is I get to a point in writing when I just don't really know where to go. I'm here and I want to go on, but the words aren't really there. Or I worry about the previous words, editing and tweaking until there I reach that same dead end. Seriously, on the bus ride home I thought of all sorts of awesome things to write and how creative and magical the words would sound
in my head they dance and sing but paper and letters don't dance and when was the last time these fonts sang?
For me anyways.
I think moving away from the conventional might help
It's going anyways.
For example
Everyday walking home I pass a cat
not the same cat
a different cat
Every day, a different cat. Sometimes many cats
And I think
I should write a story
about a girl who goes to the land of cats
or maybe it's about a cat
who guards the land of cats
or a boy
(less autobiographical, is that why so many women write male characters?)
but anyways
Cats are involved. Obviously.
And in my mind this world of cats is so epic and wonderful
that it's so natural it is obvious
and I feel that it must exist somewhere
and I'm sure it does
so I just tell myself a little story
about a cat who asks a riddle
(what walks on four legs in the morning-)
and how something is wrong in the land of cats
but a little girl who feels alone
will save the day
-awesome plot-
the end
Only the end feels so far away
and I can never quite finish the story
Maybe because I like the beginning so much.
Full of possibilities and wonder and singing and dancing.
The middle is rude and lazy and in the way
The end seems so lovely but always a step ahead
teasing and beautifully unavailable.
Word Count: 372