recolo -ere : (v) - cultivate or work again; to resume
"Why wouldn't you write to escape yourself as much as you might write to express yourself. It's far more interesting to write about others." ~ Susan Sontag
So I've decided to pick up writing again. I'd stopped writing stories for myself when I started writing papers for professors. I used to feel bad about that, but I've realized that it needed to happen that way.
Here's how it did happen: I took Creative Writing 101 this past semester, and it fired me up again in a vague way. I got to write some poetry, some nonfiction, and a short story. I got reintroduced to the writer's life (only this time plus college, minus the heavy drinking and drug use). I really enjoyed rediscovering poetry. It's not just something that 16yo me and other people write. The nonfiction wasn't thrilling, but it was necessary; I do think I have some things to say about my own life. I realized that poetry and nonfiction go together in my head, and started slow (like coral building reef slow) work on a long nonfiction/poetry piece about my mother. The short story reassured me that I still have it, and not just because of professorly praise. I was really proud of creating something that had blood running through it, did it's job, and then finished cleanly. I am proud of the clean language in the story. I'm very proud of the clean language. That's the fruit of my labor, right there.
But then that story was done. It was way past done. And my papers were done. And then the class was done. I read my Guilty Pleasure Fantasy Trilogy (Kushiel for the win!) during those first disorienting winter break days... and then I got restless. It took me a while to figure out what I wanted to do. I fell back into my old addiction and trolled IRC (text-based RP, for teh n00bz) servers for some kind of game. That right there should have showed me that I just needed to fucking write already! But no, I am stupid.
It took reading, duh. I found the old story that I wrote in Portland after (during?) writing "Seven Hells," AKA Ethan book. (I'd been kicking around the idea of editing that, but then I read the first chapter again and recoiled in horror.) It started off as a terribly yaoi, overwrought, self-indulgent dark chocolate bonbon of a story. But then... I realize that there's some jewels there. And, wonder of wonders, the story is actually... kind of... commercial. This could work for me. Now, before you get your panties in a Marxist wad, I'm not thinking "Ooh, I'll bang out a quick vampire cyberpunk dark fantasy novel and make a million dollars!" Give me some credit. I was mostly thinking that it was accessible. And if I could use my new tools to smooth the edges and really make it solid and realistic.... wow. This could work.
So. That's what I'm doing, for those of you who care. I will probably be turning to the interwebz to bitch and moan about the process from time to time. This is, after all, also about refining my process. I'm not just dusting off this particular story; I'm relearning how to write fiction for publication. I'm refining my process so I can keep doing this for the rest of my life and eventually have something to show for it besides AA and lung cancer. ;)
So I've decided to pick up writing again. I'd stopped writing stories for myself when I started writing papers for professors. I used to feel bad about that, but I've realized that it needed to happen that way.
Here's how it did happen: I took Creative Writing 101 this past semester, and it fired me up again in a vague way. I got to write some poetry, some nonfiction, and a short story. I got reintroduced to the writer's life (only this time plus college, minus the heavy drinking and drug use). I really enjoyed rediscovering poetry. It's not just something that 16yo me and other people write. The nonfiction wasn't thrilling, but it was necessary; I do think I have some things to say about my own life. I realized that poetry and nonfiction go together in my head, and started slow (like coral building reef slow) work on a long nonfiction/poetry piece about my mother. The short story reassured me that I still have it, and not just because of professorly praise. I was really proud of creating something that had blood running through it, did it's job, and then finished cleanly. I am proud of the clean language in the story. I'm very proud of the clean language. That's the fruit of my labor, right there.
But then that story was done. It was way past done. And my papers were done. And then the class was done. I read my Guilty Pleasure Fantasy Trilogy (Kushiel for the win!) during those first disorienting winter break days... and then I got restless. It took me a while to figure out what I wanted to do. I fell back into my old addiction and trolled IRC (text-based RP, for teh n00bz) servers for some kind of game. That right there should have showed me that I just needed to fucking write already! But no, I am stupid.
It took reading, duh. I found the old story that I wrote in Portland after (during?) writing "Seven Hells," AKA Ethan book. (I'd been kicking around the idea of editing that, but then I read the first chapter again and recoiled in horror.) It started off as a terribly yaoi, overwrought, self-indulgent dark chocolate bonbon of a story. But then... I realize that there's some jewels there. And, wonder of wonders, the story is actually... kind of... commercial. This could work for me. Now, before you get your panties in a Marxist wad, I'm not thinking "Ooh, I'll bang out a quick vampire cyberpunk dark fantasy novel and make a million dollars!" Give me some credit. I was mostly thinking that it was accessible. And if I could use my new tools to smooth the edges and really make it solid and realistic.... wow. This could work.
So. That's what I'm doing, for those of you who care. I will probably be turning to the interwebz to bitch and moan about the process from time to time. This is, after all, also about refining my process. I'm not just dusting off this particular story; I'm relearning how to write fiction for publication. I'm refining my process so I can keep doing this for the rest of my life and eventually have something to show for it besides AA and lung cancer. ;)