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Well, not so much fun and leisure as...get some damn writing done, you fool! |
A while ago, I attended a writers' workshop and the lady who hosted it told us all to go away with this bit of advice - to write for just ten minutes a day. I was determined to go ahead with it and I did...for two days. So today I remembered that I'd resolved to do so and I whipped out my journal and wrote for fifteen minutes. I'm typing out pretty much the same thing that I wrote earlier, with some differences. I find I can go a lot more in-depth when I'm typing than when I'm writing by hand. Writing by hand is such a chore! I've struggled with loneliness a lot throughout my twenty-nine years. I struggled with it when I was the only one home with my mum when I was a teen and everybody else had other places to be. I struggled with it after marriage and when we moved into our own house for the first time. I struggled with it after my son was born and I felt torn between pursuing my writing and being a good mum, because my culture seems to indicate that a woman has absolutely no chance of living her own life - or at least, she has no chance of attaining any goals she hasn't already attained - once she has children. I feel it occasionally still, even though I get so little time to myself nowadays that any alone time is simply awesome. I've tried to come to terms with the idea that being alone isn't a bad thing - and a lot of the time, it isn't. My friends don't live nearby so I don't get to see them often, and even when I do, I feel like there isn't much depth to our conversations. I'm surrounded by people who do not think like me, who do not share any of my interests and hobbies. I feel like I've become desensitised to isolation. Loneliness is my preferred way to be. I walked into my college cafeteria at lunch today and it was the usual hubbub of activity. Youngsters walking around, chatting animatedly, shouting across the room, laughing, eating, socialising. I could recall how that clamour wouldn't have bothered me ten-twelve years ago, when I would have been one of the youngsters talking excitedly with her friends. But, as this moment, I just found an out-of-the-way little table and sat down. I watched the crowds for a while, wondering why it was only at moments like these that the sense of isolation became so strong. In the middle of a crowd, I feel most alone. |
23:11 There's this story I began in like 2010 or something and I read the second version of it a few days ago. Then yesterday, I decided to read the first draft. Since the first draft is my planning stage, it had a lot of inconsistencies in it which I managed to smooth over in the second draft. But I like the first draft way more, because the characters feel more believable in that one. I had more room to experiment in that one. I enjoyed the journey of shaping their personalities more in the imperfect version than I did the latest product. There are so many more nuances to so many different characters which had to be cut in the second draft, because of loose plot threads and characterisation errors which had to be corrected for the sake of consistency. Although the first version rambles on and often goes nowhere, it was so much more fun to read. Although I felt initially that I wasted my time in reading my own stories (especially since the story in question is not one I'm interested in having published), I believe I should take something from this experience. Everything I read now, whether it's other people's work on WDC or reading books by my favourite published author, I read through the filter of a writer. I thought this would hamper me from enjoying a story but...no, not really. I enjoy it. In some ways, I enjoy it more as opposed to being a casual reader who follows the story at on the surface. 23:20 ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |