Damn, the Prequel
Damn it all. As I'm approaching what could be the end to a possible first "book" I'm realizing that this story of Seth's really isn't the one I've always wanted to convey to other people beyond those who already reside in my head. It's Masanis' story that I've always been obsessed with and the story of Seth really grew from the desire to avoid writing Mas' story in the traditional sense. I felt like Masanis was too stereotypical of a hero and, when this project officially started last year, Mas was nothing more than my own fantasy persona. He was the "dark, brooding loner hero...type dude." Since then, as I've developed him as a character on the periphery of Seth's story I've found that he's truly grown into this extremely complex character who goes beyond the first years when I created him back in high school. I find myself increasingly obsessed with the past of my world and I've become more concerned with the details of Masanis' early life and everything that has led up to Seth's current story (I originally deemed this the "prequel" story, hence the title to my journal.) I'm thinking that once I finish the two "books" of Seth's story I may have to write Masanis' story and, instead of trying to do the 'prequel' thing, just make Mas' the first in the "series."
The problem is that Mas' story will probably take up at least as much time as Seth's has for me so far. I honestly never thought this thing would go beyond 10 pages, and it's hit over 130 typed with even more hand written yet to be converted to the word document. I haven't even really begun the self-editing phase yet, which I already know will be arduous because I've found many things I want to change just in the few cursory glances I've made at the earlier sections I created when I was still living at State. I have several huge changes in mind, and a plan for the actual editing portion of this whole thing when I make sure everything flows precisely the way that I want it to. As of November 29 it'll officially be a year since I decided to finally get serious about this whole project and commit it to paper. This whole entire mess of a series probably won't be complete until November of next year (I hope), so that already tells me that the amount of work ahead of me is still going to be greater than anything I ever did for either of my majors in college.
I guess I can handle that. I made a decision the other day to dive hardcore into my dream, even if it means I end up failing a couple of years from now. I've got nothing else going for me career-wise, so I really don't have much to lose from giving this a try.
I'm ready for it, even if I'm wracked by self-doubt on a level unparalleled even during my days as the flannel beast. I've got a new weakness, a new thing to make me want to exit a room. Mention my writing and I turn into an insecure little punk. I've been wanting to go to the bar more and more lately and it really hasn't been to drink. There's just something about getting that ego boost, even if it may be artificial, to help drag me out of the funk generated by my writing. The security in my physical appearance helps to boost my overall confidence even as the solitude of my room and the hideous black composition books smack me around before they drag me back down into the quicksand of self-loathing.
I love this world that I've created, the history and the characters bring me joy, but I hate the insecurity that comes from actually trying hard for something that I want to accomplish in life. I feel like I have to assume that I'll fail to lessen the blow. Or assume the logical people around me are right, even if they honestly have no idea what I'm putting together right now.
I guess it's back to the story. I had a dream about the "final" battle last night. It was so vivid that I knew I had something special going for the conclusion of all of my hard work. I almost sat down today and wrote it all out. I'll get it done as soon as I can, the trick is not to rush the other important parts of the story just to get to the pleasure of the parts I know I love so much. That would be unfair to the huge world I've created for my mind to run around in.
Done.
The problem is that Mas' story will probably take up at least as much time as Seth's has for me so far. I honestly never thought this thing would go beyond 10 pages, and it's hit over 130 typed with even more hand written yet to be converted to the word document. I haven't even really begun the self-editing phase yet, which I already know will be arduous because I've found many things I want to change just in the few cursory glances I've made at the earlier sections I created when I was still living at State. I have several huge changes in mind, and a plan for the actual editing portion of this whole thing when I make sure everything flows precisely the way that I want it to. As of November 29 it'll officially be a year since I decided to finally get serious about this whole project and commit it to paper. This whole entire mess of a series probably won't be complete until November of next year (I hope), so that already tells me that the amount of work ahead of me is still going to be greater than anything I ever did for either of my majors in college.
I guess I can handle that. I made a decision the other day to dive hardcore into my dream, even if it means I end up failing a couple of years from now. I've got nothing else going for me career-wise, so I really don't have much to lose from giving this a try.
I'm ready for it, even if I'm wracked by self-doubt on a level unparalleled even during my days as the flannel beast. I've got a new weakness, a new thing to make me want to exit a room. Mention my writing and I turn into an insecure little punk. I've been wanting to go to the bar more and more lately and it really hasn't been to drink. There's just something about getting that ego boost, even if it may be artificial, to help drag me out of the funk generated by my writing. The security in my physical appearance helps to boost my overall confidence even as the solitude of my room and the hideous black composition books smack me around before they drag me back down into the quicksand of self-loathing.
I love this world that I've created, the history and the characters bring me joy, but I hate the insecurity that comes from actually trying hard for something that I want to accomplish in life. I feel like I have to assume that I'll fail to lessen the blow. Or assume the logical people around me are right, even if they honestly have no idea what I'm putting together right now.
I guess it's back to the story. I had a dream about the "final" battle last night. It was so vivid that I knew I had something special going for the conclusion of all of my hard work. I almost sat down today and wrote it all out. I'll get it done as soon as I can, the trick is not to rush the other important parts of the story just to get to the pleasure of the parts I know I love so much. That would be unfair to the huge world I've created for my mind to run around in.
Done.