I started out writing novels. Then a brief flirtation with short stories, followed by a solid relationship with poetry that lasted several years. Not unhappy but feeling a distinct lack of spark, I broke it off with poetry to start up with flash fiction. Here, I feel that I finally found a supportive and mutually beneficial interaction- if I believed in the word, I would use "soulmates." This, this was the one that completed me.
But now, I'm taking a class in sequential art - comics, graphic novels, and manga- and I am writing CHAPTERS! A series of 3,000 to 4,000 words STRUNG TOGETHER to create a coherent whole, and then strung together AGAIN to create a coherent PLOT ARC!
DO YOU HAVE ANY CONCEPT HOW MUCH INTERNAL LOGIC IS NECESSARY FOR THAT KIND OF WRITING???
DO YOU?
It's actually really, really hard. I no longer "think long." In fact, my most frequent critique is "add detail." *Laughs* I never thought I would hear that one.
I feel like a little primordial switch in the back of my head is permanently snapped- I can't get back to flash, but I'm not functioning in long form either. I'm stuck in some hell-hole in between where the ante-up is constant revisions, just to keep playing.
Sometimes, I don't wanna play anymore.
Guh.
Anyways, that's where I've been lately. I haven't died, my will-power just loses steam long, LONG before the blog comes up on the to-do list. Actually, I admit, I haven't even WRITTEN it on the to-do for quite a while.
I would make promises to do better, but I don't believe myself. :p
Right Now:
What I'm listening to: Abney Park "Building Steam"
What I want most: to read the rest of Tahereh Mafi's Shatter Me, but the preview is over and the book isn't publish yet *cries*
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