Mirabile dictu!
Nov. 8th, 2005 10:02 pmIt's sort of amazing what solitude will do for you. Or to you.
The rational part of my mind tells me that this whole NaNoWriMo thing is hogwash. And yet, there is a certain unfulfilled part of me that, like Special Agent Mulder, just wants to believe. I have no illusions that whatever I may write would not hold the attention of a really bored person for more than a few seconds, but after many years of writing non-fiction, and a career based on expressing in English what others can only say in Russian, the idea of stringing 50,000 words in a row to tell some kind of story, even haltingly, seems insanely attractive.
So, I just finished laying down enough words to cut my NaNoWriMo deficit to 2.5 days, relying mostly on a kind of mental jiu-jitsu that had me thinking of the plot (not worth talking about) with my real life living with Galina. Of course, the facts have been changed to protect the guilty, but that - as the man says - is life.
The darned thing is X rated, or just about. Hmmm.
Cheers...
The rational part of my mind tells me that this whole NaNoWriMo thing is hogwash. And yet, there is a certain unfulfilled part of me that, like Special Agent Mulder, just wants to believe. I have no illusions that whatever I may write would not hold the attention of a really bored person for more than a few seconds, but after many years of writing non-fiction, and a career based on expressing in English what others can only say in Russian, the idea of stringing 50,000 words in a row to tell some kind of story, even haltingly, seems insanely attractive.
So, I just finished laying down enough words to cut my NaNoWriMo deficit to 2.5 days, relying mostly on a kind of mental jiu-jitsu that had me thinking of the plot (not worth talking about) with my real life living with Galina. Of course, the facts have been changed to protect the guilty, but that - as the man says - is life.
The darned thing is X rated, or just about. Hmmm.
Cheers...
no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 06:36 am (UTC)I think, after attempting fiction from age 13-28 and then from 43-50, I can safely say that it's the 'what am I *doing*' feeling that has never gone away and was largely what made me stop the first time (and is one reason why I'm hovering on the brink of so doing this time around). I think I am - and always will be - embarrassed about writing fiction. Non-fiction: nope. That seems 'respectable' somehow. And yes, it's stupid. Maybe I'd get over it if somebody paid me millions (but even then, I wouldn't want most people I know to realise that it was me...). And no - I'm not (I hope) writing mindless rubbish. Not all of it anyway *g*.
And of course one borrows from using real life, and that makes it even weirder simply because you use things, distort them... and then you get your dearest and beloved saying 'but it wasn't like that' (whether you're talking about a person, place or event they recognise). This is why Chris doesn't get to read much because he's never grasped the idea that my fiction is just that - FICTION. This particularly applies to anything vaguely X-rated.
However, having said that, if you'd like an opinion of what you've written, when it's finished, I do not shock easily. I just expect everybody else to be shocked by what *I've* written simply because it's me who wrote it.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-09 08:53 pm (UTC)I don't know if that says something about that type of material being easy to write, or my own twisted mind, or what.