Writing Woes
May. 21st, 2006 11:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lady_saraiSo, I had a WONDERFUL brainstorm last night. Complete with beautiful prose and insightful dialogue and a glorious plot.
I love when that happens and you feel like a story is writing itself; it's not you who is writing, it's the story and characters USING YOU to be written.
...I hate when this happens at 4:30 am when you've just woken to roll over and the very idea of even reaching for the light--never mind paper and pen, or a computer--is too daunting to even consider.
::slams head against wall::
So, of course, all I'm left with today is an intense DESIRE to write and a vague recollection of something that was beautiful and lovely and inspired coming to me in my half-asleep state. And a general sense of mourning for this lost story.
On a related note, I was spacing out today while reading and I actually grabbed paper and pen, because I had the beginnings of a story coming to me, but by the time I uncapped my pen, I was at least four paragraphs into the story and finding the first sentence again was impossible, and capturing even the general plotline would have stopped the story in its tracks. So instead I just let it go and now I'm not even sure what it was about. =P
I think my brain moves too fast for me, sometimes.
It is nice to know I have ideas and the ability to find words for them, again. I was a little afraid that all those papers at the end of the semester had pushed everything creative from my brain forever.
Now I just have to re-learn how to harness those ideas and slow my brain down enough to capture it all in Word or on paper. ;)
(...Of course, the last time I felt this inspired and creative and WANTED to write this badly was when I wrote Believe, using the prompt to involve Ernie MacMillan and the Fat Friar in a fic. And I'm rather happy with how that turned out, so maybe I'll just open Word and see if my muses and breeding plot bunnies take over.)
My mother thinks I'm insane, since I tried to explain to her how losing last night's inspiration bothered me. And when she noticed me spacing out on the couch and asked what I was thinking about, I couldn't really figure out how to answer her. She doesn't understand how my brain works; I'm not sure I understand how it works--sometimes it doesn't feel like I'm in control at all. ;)
I love when that happens and you feel like a story is writing itself; it's not you who is writing, it's the story and characters USING YOU to be written.
...I hate when this happens at 4:30 am when you've just woken to roll over and the very idea of even reaching for the light--never mind paper and pen, or a computer--is too daunting to even consider.
::slams head against wall::
So, of course, all I'm left with today is an intense DESIRE to write and a vague recollection of something that was beautiful and lovely and inspired coming to me in my half-asleep state. And a general sense of mourning for this lost story.
On a related note, I was spacing out today while reading and I actually grabbed paper and pen, because I had the beginnings of a story coming to me, but by the time I uncapped my pen, I was at least four paragraphs into the story and finding the first sentence again was impossible, and capturing even the general plotline would have stopped the story in its tracks. So instead I just let it go and now I'm not even sure what it was about. =P
I think my brain moves too fast for me, sometimes.
It is nice to know I have ideas and the ability to find words for them, again. I was a little afraid that all those papers at the end of the semester had pushed everything creative from my brain forever.
Now I just have to re-learn how to harness those ideas and slow my brain down enough to capture it all in Word or on paper. ;)
(...Of course, the last time I felt this inspired and creative and WANTED to write this badly was when I wrote Believe, using the prompt to involve Ernie MacMillan and the Fat Friar in a fic. And I'm rather happy with how that turned out, so maybe I'll just open Word and see if my muses and breeding plot bunnies take over.)
My mother thinks I'm insane, since I tried to explain to her how losing last night's inspiration bothered me. And when she noticed me spacing out on the couch and asked what I was thinking about, I couldn't really figure out how to answer her. She doesn't understand how my brain works; I'm not sure I understand how it works--sometimes it doesn't feel like I'm in control at all. ;)
