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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/993579-A-Mind-For-Fiction-Psychoanalytical-Salt-To-Season
Rated: 18+ · Book · Writing · #1300042
All that remains: here in my afterlife as a 'mainstream' blogger, with what little I know.
#993579 added September 17, 2020 at 2:29pm
Restrictions: None
A Mind For Fiction? Psychoanalytical Salt To Season
A new 'Let's be real' session with myself, in an open forum...

There's this ruminating about THE novel. I look at it from all angles and wonder about my mentality that forces me into this dance around it. I look it up one side and the other, barely interacting with the idea, basic premise, the inner workings. I'm not really inspecting it, but the idea of its purpose. As its master, the need for its creation. Then, I travel down an avenue about writing fiction. It could open discussion to further delay this project:

Does one who desires to be an architect of a story need to be an avid reader of fiction?

To break it down further. I read non-fiction. I've learned this is a trait of a person of my particular psychological makeup. Does this mean my aversion to reading novels is a reason why I don't have the right mind to write a full length manuscript of fiction?

Here's what I know and struggle with. It's not that I don't understand the construct of characters, setting, conflict and resolution or even elements of foreboding, symbolism and developing a subject of worth with context that a reader can appreciate. I can write a hook and I can summarize story.

I cannot, however, create an alternate universe with its own parameters, reality, sets of beliefs and morals with assumed characters without feeling phony, not true enough to reality. Not true enough to my own experiences without embellishing and getting lost in my way and what direction a story could go.

Yes, I could plot a course with outline and characters with things to do. What if I want to deviate or try to make them seem real? What if I just want to write my own story and then change all the names when I'm done, because it feels fake if I change just one detail about them, including any attribution. And that's when I run into this wall of recall. I have to make up words they said, can barely paraphrase. It starts to feel fake again. I'm like some Holden Caulfield who is at war with himself.

I'm in my own paradox. I suddenly want to create alternate timelines with any story where my fictional charcters and real characters run into each other and turn to me, their master, and ask what the hell I'm doing. It's odd that this surreal world I'm in is blocked before I can take my fictional creations any further than a sudden outburst of words that dead-end when I've written into these corners of the mind.

I see an opportunity with Nano Prep. I stopped myself from signing up because the entry form felt a little confusing what I was committing to. I had to give that some thought. So, while I put all things on hold while my life is on hold, I get trapped. I turn to the easy things to write and distract myself instead.

But here's the other thing. Year in and year out I talk with her about my desire to write a novel...The novel. Year after year her interest wanes more. I realize it's gotten to the 'Uh-huh, that's nice dear' phase of this conversation. The point where I have to completely drop it. Now, my motivation is just, write it and surprise her. But here again is me going toward something for the wrong reasons. I need to believe in the project foremost for myself. I have to work out these obstacles I place before me, as I'm questioning if I have the right head for fiction.

I'm not organized. I'm easily distracted. My head is a clutter. I can't focus when I should. I need rewards that leave me in limbo. I should just want to do this for myself. i should not want to do this to shove in someone's face. I need a clear vision, clear goals, to make a path toward something that could be realized and completed. I feel I don't even know my own mind well enough in this self-analyzing psychosis pending state of reality I'm in.

I'll keep hashing it out in blogs and mindless musings, while I wait for a reality check.


9.17.20

Hi, my name is Brian. You may have encountered me running in and out of areas of Writing.Com where i mostly feel like Chang on an episode of Community where my reality seems to be that of a ghost. Since I'm invisible to most of you, I decide to act the part and rattle my chains. Be all big and scary. But for the indifferent...well, they won't see this anyway.

I'm likely Schizophrenic, so take that with a grain of psychoanalytical salt.


© Copyright 2020 He’s Brian K Compton 18 year (UN: ripglaedr3 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
He’s Brian K Compton 18 year has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/993579-A-Mind-For-Fiction-Psychoanalytical-Salt-To-Season