I am going to put my fingers to keyboard now and I dont know what is to come out. I have a lifetime of interesting events with twists and turns and even though I know it all and have written much, I am nearly paralized when it comes to getting it out. I think that its so much information that I feel that if it all isnt in chronological order and it has too much artistic license to it that it wont come out correctly. That when I go to edit it and have to choose parts to cut, ill feel like I am deleting those moments that I remember from having ever existed.
So I am wondering if, like everything else in my life, im overthinking it all. But then again ive been plagued by many bad decisions that werent thought out at all, only further reinforcing my want to think further and longer and harder about everything else to come as well.
Already this damned autocomplete keeps giving me the option to add in “everything” to any word I type starting with an “e”, which means ive already used that damnned word too many times in just this short document. Note to self: turn off fucking autocomplete when writing. It’s such a nag, wanting me to change and have to think when im trying to get into the stream of writing. What a bitch it can be.
I have to come to terms that what happens on paper, digital or otherwise, and what happens in the minds and hearts of the reader is neither indicative of how what happened nor an invalidation of what ive gone through. I suppose just like any creative person, criticism hits home hard when youve poured in your lifes blood. I think what makes it worse is that this isnt simply some story ive created with characters that are mine, but they’re real people, and the events are all real. This shit really did happen and it really happened to me.
Now here I am, having broken what I can only describe as the cursing bubble. It’s the point in any written work where the artist sets the tone of how much they’re going to have cursing in the piece. Somehow as soon as I start I hear a critic somewhere, usually with the disembodied voice of a disapproving relative telling me that cursing makes one seem unintelligent. I see a column somewhere saying that the book would have been better if written by someone older or more mature who wouldnt curse too much. The word “gratuitous” comes to mind and I suddenly try and avoid cursing for as long as I can.
However ive never written childrens books or even young adult books, but for some reason I worry about the prudish adults, who, while not really my targeted demographic, will certainly not be won over to continue on reading what I have to say. And then thinking that makes me wonder as to why the hell I think my story is good enough or worthy of being read by a wide range of people. More than likely it wont be published, more than likely even if it is, it wont be read by many people at all, and if it does get big, I shouldnt give a shit about those who didnt read it, because fuck them that’s why. Their loss, right? Right?
I think that I want to be like achilles where everyone remebers me above all else. I think that the story that im writing is my own Illiad. Its not really epic at all and certainly isnt an adventure in any way, but it’s quite a journey I suppose. But it’s really just one man’s journey which The Illiad wasnt really just about achilles. Ok, so, what im writing isnt anything like The Illiad but it’s going to be pretty tragic at times! More like a train wreck of one thing after the other that you cant help but watch in awe of the carnage. I think ive put way too much emphasis on the “tragedy” part of “greek tragedy” when I think of these two stories being analagous.
To be honest it’s more like Curb Your Enthusiasm than it is like anything else. A much more awkward and sort of less funny Curb. Alright so it’s not really like Curb at all either but it will be funny at time. A nervous kind of funny like when a couple is having you over for dinner and they start fightingthrough gritted teeth about something right at the table while trying to keep up appearances.
So here’s what ive written after a half an hour, just over a page’s worth. If I want my novel to be written that calculated to roughly 75 hours of writing. Holy shit that’s just about 2 weeks of a full time job. Ugh, this thing will never get written. I’m actually planning on starting with what of it I’ve written but then I realize that I am horrible at editing and all of them being at different times, voices and perspectives, it’d be an editing nightmare and I really may as well just start all over. Fuck. I just want to see the page counter read a number 150 or above and me type the words “the end”. But actually thats not true at all, I just want to get this whole fucking thing out of my brain. I can stop having it looming, hovering, taunting.
So what have I written here? Looks like a stream of conscious writing on how much I am not writing. Wow, that wasnt productive at all.
