Writing with People Around
When I'm working on a fictional piece, or when I'm engrossed in the peculiarities of my own characters, you could probably explode a thermonuclear device near me and I wouldn't blink.
Okay, you've got me. Probably not. That's what is known in literary language as creative exaggeration.
This is also a device sometimes employed by parents trying to get their children up for school. "Oh darling daughter, it's 7:15! Get up!" (It's really 6:45, but if we told her that, she wouldn't budge.)
I've actually never used that device with my own children because I hate lying to them, though I've seen it used by other parents. What I do see, though, is that the same art of selective sensing -- hearing and seeing only what you wish -- applies to my daughter when she's trying not to wake up for school and to me when I'm writing.
When I'm writing fiction, that is. When I'm working on a report or a project that I hate, or where I'm just sick and tired of it -- when I'm not engaged completely with the material -- the same selective sensing does not apply.
So - case in point. Here I am, working in the library. It's got better internet than I have where I'm living (we got a hot spot, just so I could work from home) and there are some teenagers sitting at the same table, talking about their lives, and it's so fascinating that I can't focus completely on my writing. I have mastered the art of writing and formatting this report while listening to these children.
Wow. Split sensing. How do I do it?
But don't you find that it's hard to work in a public place, when there are so many diverting people to listen to? This young girl is responding to a text from some guy who's threatening to beat her up. "Come to the Park!" he says. She's ecstatic. "I'm gonna kick his ass!"
And then there's the boy who is having a problem with his mom, who he says doesn't remember that he gave her some money from the bank. She wants him to pay her back for the money she's sure he lost.
What wonderful stories I could write with this!
Do you have the same problem? I'd love to know.
Woman of Letters, Signing Out. Still trying to finish this dratted report while overhearing some highly amusing conversations...
Okay, you've got me. Probably not. That's what is known in literary language as creative exaggeration.
This is also a device sometimes employed by parents trying to get their children up for school. "Oh darling daughter, it's 7:15! Get up!" (It's really 6:45, but if we told her that, she wouldn't budge.)
I've actually never used that device with my own children because I hate lying to them, though I've seen it used by other parents. What I do see, though, is that the same art of selective sensing -- hearing and seeing only what you wish -- applies to my daughter when she's trying not to wake up for school and to me when I'm writing.
When I'm writing fiction, that is. When I'm working on a report or a project that I hate, or where I'm just sick and tired of it -- when I'm not engaged completely with the material -- the same selective sensing does not apply.
So - case in point. Here I am, working in the library. It's got better internet than I have where I'm living (we got a hot spot, just so I could work from home) and there are some teenagers sitting at the same table, talking about their lives, and it's so fascinating that I can't focus completely on my writing. I have mastered the art of writing and formatting this report while listening to these children.
Wow. Split sensing. How do I do it?
But don't you find that it's hard to work in a public place, when there are so many diverting people to listen to? This young girl is responding to a text from some guy who's threatening to beat her up. "Come to the Park!" he says. She's ecstatic. "I'm gonna kick his ass!"
And then there's the boy who is having a problem with his mom, who he says doesn't remember that he gave her some money from the bank. She wants him to pay her back for the money she's sure he lost.
What wonderful stories I could write with this!
Do you have the same problem? I'd love to know.
Woman of Letters, Signing Out. Still trying to finish this dratted report while overhearing some highly amusing conversations...