Ponderings...
In the massive weather shifts, and location shifts, I have been doing a lot of thinking lately. Perhaps it is just my way of prolonging the inevitable of going back to real work, in a constraining environment whose sole purpose is to suck the life force out of me...or maybe it is just my brain trying to wrap itself around the event s of the past almost 2.5 years. In many ways, I still feel stuck back in August of 2005, and I have to wonder if my continued journeys "home" don't add to that. This last time, however, I felt a guilty pleasure of sorts when it came time to drive back over the twin spans, their disjointed vibrations not being a siren call as much as the last note of Taps. I got to leave, and then I got to come back, close enough to visit as much as I want, but far enough away to insulate myself from the sallow pallor that lays over the land and catches all in its depressive web.
That so is not what I set out to write. I was trying to pound out some of the thoughts that keep haunting me at night. And in the day. And in every waking moment I have where I am not trying to busy myself with things I should be doing, but can't do because my energy level is about as high as a doped up sloth's. Writing, being a writer. There is a myriad of books, blogs, web pages and whatnots on the subject and most of them are crap. I fully believe if you have to read something and practice to become a writer, you will never truly be one. Writing comes from a special union of brains and heart. Good, true writing at least. The art. When I see books with titles such as "How to make a character" or "Plots to pull out of your ass and scribble down on a napkin whilst pretending to be the next Faulkner", I cringe. Characters and plots should already be in you, living in your blood, holding salons in your dreams. If they aren't, move along. I don't need a book to tell me how to be, I already am. The only book on writing that I think is worth the paper it is printed on, is... "On Writing" by Stephen King. I have been re-reading it lately, having finally replaced the copy that became a clumpy, sodden, moldy mess. I felt like I was having a reunion with a lost friend. What I need is a "google map" on how to be published. Snarky comment with little basis in reality: "If Lucas Scott can get published, dammit, then so can I!"
So then, what is stopping me? Ah, like every other mere mortal out there, the big ol' "F" word: FEAR. Fear of success, fear of failure, fear of rejection, fear of movie deals, whatever. Same reason I keep putting off applying to doctoral programs, or don't apply for jobs I really deserve. Keep the bar low, and you always get a gold star. God, I am pathetic.
That so is not what I set out to write. I was trying to pound out some of the thoughts that keep haunting me at night. And in the day. And in every waking moment I have where I am not trying to busy myself with things I should be doing, but can't do because my energy level is about as high as a doped up sloth's. Writing, being a writer. There is a myriad of books, blogs, web pages and whatnots on the subject and most of them are crap. I fully believe if you have to read something and practice to become a writer, you will never truly be one. Writing comes from a special union of brains and heart. Good, true writing at least. The art. When I see books with titles such as "How to make a character" or "Plots to pull out of your ass and scribble down on a napkin whilst pretending to be the next Faulkner", I cringe. Characters and plots should already be in you, living in your blood, holding salons in your dreams. If they aren't, move along. I don't need a book to tell me how to be, I already am. The only book on writing that I think is worth the paper it is printed on, is... "On Writing" by Stephen King. I have been re-reading it lately, having finally replaced the copy that became a clumpy, sodden, moldy mess. I felt like I was having a reunion with a lost friend. What I need is a "google map" on how to be published. Snarky comment with little basis in reality: "If Lucas Scott can get published, dammit, then so can I!"
So then, what is stopping me? Ah, like every other mere mortal out there, the big ol' "F" word: FEAR. Fear of success, fear of failure, fear of rejection, fear of movie deals, whatever. Same reason I keep putting off applying to doctoral programs, or don't apply for jobs I really deserve. Keep the bar low, and you always get a gold star. God, I am pathetic.