Refrigeration and Writing
It is a fine day. I am still a bit slower than usual, but at least my sinuses are clear. I believe that the phrase "all clear" originated with people checking their health by blowing their noses:
Person 1: *blows nose*
Person 2: Any green?
Person 1: Nope. All clear.
In other news, it's late fall, and Starbucks is still refrigerated. I think I am a bit punier than the average endotherm, but, by the specific heat of mercury, it is chilly in here.
Skipping a trailing train of thought, I've been imagining that I should write a choose-your-own-adventure book for adults. Obviously, video games have taken this concept to the next level, where the entire story is a sort of choose-your-own-adventure, but—since people still read—I think there'd be something really compelling (if not nostalgic) about "If you choose thus-and-such, turn to page 147." It would definitely be a challenging, enjoyable exercise.
I have too many things to write before that though. I really have been making great progress with Meadowvale, but I should just go insane and write with every free moment I have. Or at least read more. Or at least exercise some. Or or or.
Unfortunately, I am somewhat out of the loop with Meadowvale. Last Wednesday, I was a green-snot cough-monster. My brain was mostly off almost an entire week.
As always, there are simple solutions: read, reread, and write. What's worse is that I have to rewrite the first three chapters. Up to this point, I've just followed my heart. Granted, I've fretted about plot details during the day or while driving or in conversations or while I'm trying to fall asleep, but most chapters have just unfolded rather organically. Now, I have to figure out how to make a compelling exposition. A friend also advised that I should introduce the fact that they're all rabbits at the beginning.
I've written so many random story sketches, but I haven't decisively made many expositions.
This sketch is one of my favorite accidents.
I know I will have to edit, cut, reform, rewrite so much of my story, but I haven't yet gotten into the practice of it. It feels like redoing a task, rewashing the same dish, or fixing again something that you just fixed: it feels like a cumbersome waste.
Alas, it's not a waste. Alas, it's necessary and good.
With that being said, I suppose I must be off to it.
Person 1: *blows nose*
Person 2: Any green?
Person 1: Nope. All clear.
In other news, it's late fall, and Starbucks is still refrigerated. I think I am a bit punier than the average endotherm, but, by the specific heat of mercury, it is chilly in here.
Skipping a trailing train of thought, I've been imagining that I should write a choose-your-own-adventure book for adults. Obviously, video games have taken this concept to the next level, where the entire story is a sort of choose-your-own-adventure, but—since people still read—I think there'd be something really compelling (if not nostalgic) about "If you choose thus-and-such, turn to page 147." It would definitely be a challenging, enjoyable exercise.
I have too many things to write before that though. I really have been making great progress with Meadowvale, but I should just go insane and write with every free moment I have. Or at least read more. Or at least exercise some. Or or or.
Unfortunately, I am somewhat out of the loop with Meadowvale. Last Wednesday, I was a green-snot cough-monster. My brain was mostly off almost an entire week.
As always, there are simple solutions: read, reread, and write. What's worse is that I have to rewrite the first three chapters. Up to this point, I've just followed my heart. Granted, I've fretted about plot details during the day or while driving or in conversations or while I'm trying to fall asleep, but most chapters have just unfolded rather organically. Now, I have to figure out how to make a compelling exposition. A friend also advised that I should introduce the fact that they're all rabbits at the beginning.
I've written so many random story sketches, but I haven't decisively made many expositions.
This sketch is one of my favorite accidents.
I know I will have to edit, cut, reform, rewrite so much of my story, but I haven't yet gotten into the practice of it. It feels like redoing a task, rewashing the same dish, or fixing again something that you just fixed: it feels like a cumbersome waste.
Alas, it's not a waste. Alas, it's necessary and good.
With that being said, I suppose I must be off to it.
Comments
Post a Comment