It's official: I'm sick of writing this novel. The words are just not coming, and surprise surprise, I find it easier to write about myself than other people. Shocking, I know.
No, it will not help to twist the plot and have the neighbor's cat swallow the evidence during the police investigation. It will not be cute, nor will it be clever, to make my main character morph into a bird or a wolf or a wizard any of that stuff the young people care about these days. I cannot introduce any more characters this late in the game. There's already enough death and destruction, so no one else can die. And there will be no vampires, damnit. There will just be normal humans who did extra-normal things whose stories I cannot, for the life of me, seem to push out of my fingertips without sounding like Jack Kerouac having an asthma attack.
Fuck.
This is harder than I thought it was going to be.
Comments
lauren, i agree with johns.your observational and personal writing is wonderful.funny, moving, interesting.maybe you just need to realize that THAT is your forte. cuz babycakes, i ALWAYS look forward to your blog.dont beat yourself up. and, as usual, im sure you are your harshest critic; and i bet your novel is pretty damn good, wherever it is in the creative process.(stuck and no morphing? how about…..SEX?_
Lolo - My thoughts:1.) fuck nawrinomo or what ever.2.) You’ve learned something, a nugget or two. sift them out and put them on your windowsill and enjoy how the sun glints off them in the morning sipping tea. (well, ok it’s seattle, so just enjoy them in grey light.)3.) You can write.4.) take some of the gems and graft them.5.) and, oh, god, DO write about yourself. Your wit and observation of shit that happens to you is an inspiration to us all!-John