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Apr. 30th, 2004 02:11 pm-11:04 AM
If I didn't think I'd get killed, I'd opt for a half day at work today. Not that I don't have the vaca time coming to me, or that I'm ill. It's more just those little lingering things that a short nap would really cure. Memory flashes, banal conversation around me as usual.
I had some dream last week. I still see images, but it was a mystery story, much like I was in some movie. Wasn't about me though: I was witnessing it, but the characters seemed realized all their own. Romance, too, or something was brewing. The problem was, I woke up, and the story wasn't finished and the memory slipped away as I was reaching for my notebook to try and put it to paper. This has frustrated me for close to a week. I like writing. I want to write more. I get ideas all the time, but there is usually such a problem with getting things out onto paper (or file, as the case may be). Some stories...I know what will happen. I can see it unfolding, but I can't get past a certain point to get to the end point.
And I keep seeing my own faults. My writing's too disjointed, too formulaic, too...repetitive. I try to keep the character's voices different, but it all comes out sounding the same to me. My conflicts seem trite to me, and my itches to keep my own spirits up make me feel like I'm fixing things too tightly.
I wish...I really do. I'd love to see a book with my name as the author on it. An actual, physical book. Just to show that I could do something cool.
If I didn't think I'd get killed, I'd opt for a half day at work today. Not that I don't have the vaca time coming to me, or that I'm ill. It's more just those little lingering things that a short nap would really cure. Memory flashes, banal conversation around me as usual.
I had some dream last week. I still see images, but it was a mystery story, much like I was in some movie. Wasn't about me though: I was witnessing it, but the characters seemed realized all their own. Romance, too, or something was brewing. The problem was, I woke up, and the story wasn't finished and the memory slipped away as I was reaching for my notebook to try and put it to paper. This has frustrated me for close to a week. I like writing. I want to write more. I get ideas all the time, but there is usually such a problem with getting things out onto paper (or file, as the case may be). Some stories...I know what will happen. I can see it unfolding, but I can't get past a certain point to get to the end point.
And I keep seeing my own faults. My writing's too disjointed, too formulaic, too...repetitive. I try to keep the character's voices different, but it all comes out sounding the same to me. My conflicts seem trite to me, and my itches to keep my own spirits up make me feel like I'm fixing things too tightly.
I wish...I really do. I'd love to see a book with my name as the author on it. An actual, physical book. Just to show that I could do something cool.