It's a surprise, but one thing I have done in all this distress is write. It made a difference, having one of my poems selected for publication on a writing website, and it made a difference getting positive feedback on this blog from people whose opinion I hold in high regard.
I found a voice. Not mine, but one that is familiar. It's flowing quite easily. The full sweep of plot is not fully formed yet, but the characters are emerging nicely, as are some key events and interactions. I also wrote a short story, a piece of flash fiction and a poem for Bugged, although the poem was finished too late for submission. I might put it on here some time, I suppose. I thought my restless mind could be better applied than googling (my restless body I walked into submission yesterday with over 11 miles in the rain, and it quietened down a little bit after that).
I'm stealing stories. Some of them I'd left alone until now, knowing they were great but they were not mine to have. But then I figured a story that belongs to someone that I know, is now a story that could be mine. I base this on the logic that there's a sort of Venn-diagram overlap of - you - that means I am connected in to all your triumphs and tragedies, all your characters and friends, your loves and disappointments.
And like Frank Bascombe said, I can make them turn out the way I want them to. I can deny you the consummation to your most romantic encounter, or turn a humiliation into a golden glowing marvel. Now I get to decide who has the happy endings.
I posted a response, but it disappeared. Did you steal it? It was along the lines of. . .steal away. It's what writers do. And you are a writer. You know I know this.
ReplyDeleteI don't delete any of the few comments I receive. It's part of the dark deal I have done with the internet.
ReplyDeleteNot all the comments are for me, of course.