So because homework has exploded into my life, and I have no time to really think about a posting, I'm leaving you today with a few quotes from Virginia Woolf on the creative process and a few general links for writers.
Check out children and YA author Debbie Ridpath Ohi for writing comics at her webiste:
Trust me, do it. The woman is hilarious.
For other general knowledge, advice, commiseration, and contests for writers, check out
It's a conglomeration of some of my favorite fantasy authors, including the wonderful Lilith Saintcrow. And since I love Lilith Saintcrow, go ahead and check out her blog:
As for Virginia Woolf, I have just finished her novel To the Lighthouse for my Modern Fiction class, and really found some of her comments on the creative process (spoken through the character of Lily, a painter, but really applies to all artists- painters, authors, or otherwise) to fascinating.
"It was in that moment's flight between the picture and her canvas that the demons set on her who often brought her to the verge of tears and made this passage from conception to work as dreadful as any down a dark passage for a child. "
"One line placed on the canvas commited her to innumerable risks, to frequent and irrevocable decisions. All that in idea seemed simple became in practice immediately complex."
"scraping her palette of all those mounds of blue and green which seemed to her like clods with no life in them now, yet she vowed, she would inspire them, force them to move, flow, do her bidding tomorrow." (I simply inserted "words" in for "mounds" and it all fit.... )
And the most apt description of the fear of critique:
"But that any other eyes should see the reside of her thirty-three years, the deposit of each day's living mixed with something more secret than she had ever spoken or shown in the course of all those days was an agony."
And the explanation for why, even with all our love for writing and the business of writing, why sometimes we seek to procrastinate and put off and avoid:
"For what could be more formidable than that space? Here she was again, she thought, stepping back to look at it, drawn out of gossip, out of living, out of community with people into the presence of this formidable ancient enemy of hers- this other thing, this truth, this reality, which suddenly laid hands on her, emerged stark at the back of appearances and commanded her attention, She was half unwilling, half reluctant. Why always be drawn out and haled away? Why not left in peace..."
What I'm listening to: Nothing. The fan. The typing of computer keys. The doors slamming in the hallway. Dorm life.
What I what most: More time. Or less homework. Because the two simply are not compatible.