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So perhaps you've heard of
wrisomifu. I hadn't until I came across
llaras's mention of it yesterday. I've tried Nanowrimo twice, and I failed each time after a few days. But this I can do. And I did. Although I missed the first day because I found out about it too late. And yet, somehow, that seems to fit in with the whole spirit of the thing.
I need to pull my head out of my ass, and this might be the pry bar for the job. One of the truisms of having a chronic illness is that it can devour you if you let it. You (I) can become completely focused on the minutiae of every twinge, every ache, every sigh. Anything can become of greater import than it actually is because it's being viewed through such a constrained, laser-sharp point of view. It can reach ridiculous proportions, and I've found myself jeering my own reactions while I channel Richard Dreyfus pawing through a mound of mashed potatoes muttering, "This is important. This means something."
So for ten minutes a day I'm going to write. For some of you that's a spit in the ocean. For me, it's a baby step back to the me that used to be. I haven't written anything with conscious effort in years now. And even I can't come up with an excuse to avoid a mere 10 minutes. Plus, I love the whole kind of pissy spirit behind the concept: write something, you miserable fuck. Sums up the state of me pretty concisely, I'd say.
I wrote 10 minutes of a Firefly story that's been in the back of my mind for years now. I have no idea if I'll continue with it. Probably not. Although it would be interesting to see how it plays out in 10 minute drabbles. The point is to write again just for the activity of it, not to get boxed in by end points. Although it would be cool to be able to come up with a very short short story. Beginning, middle, and end in 10 minutes. I once had a collection called, I believe, Very Short Fiction. No story was over 2 pages long. I loved it. I let someone borrow it (bad habit of mine), and I never got it back. There were some elegant and gritty pieces of writing in there. And then there was Hemingway's tiny masterpiece: "For sale: baby shoes, never worn." Six words. A hell of a story.
Of course, all of this is assuming I survive the election :)
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I need to pull my head out of my ass, and this might be the pry bar for the job. One of the truisms of having a chronic illness is that it can devour you if you let it. You (I) can become completely focused on the minutiae of every twinge, every ache, every sigh. Anything can become of greater import than it actually is because it's being viewed through such a constrained, laser-sharp point of view. It can reach ridiculous proportions, and I've found myself jeering my own reactions while I channel Richard Dreyfus pawing through a mound of mashed potatoes muttering, "This is important. This means something."
So for ten minutes a day I'm going to write. For some of you that's a spit in the ocean. For me, it's a baby step back to the me that used to be. I haven't written anything with conscious effort in years now. And even I can't come up with an excuse to avoid a mere 10 minutes. Plus, I love the whole kind of pissy spirit behind the concept: write something, you miserable fuck. Sums up the state of me pretty concisely, I'd say.
I wrote 10 minutes of a Firefly story that's been in the back of my mind for years now. I have no idea if I'll continue with it. Probably not. Although it would be interesting to see how it plays out in 10 minute drabbles. The point is to write again just for the activity of it, not to get boxed in by end points. Although it would be cool to be able to come up with a very short short story. Beginning, middle, and end in 10 minutes. I once had a collection called, I believe, Very Short Fiction. No story was over 2 pages long. I loved it. I let someone borrow it (bad habit of mine), and I never got it back. There were some elegant and gritty pieces of writing in there. And then there was Hemingway's tiny masterpiece: "For sale: baby shoes, never worn." Six words. A hell of a story.
Of course, all of this is assuming I survive the election :)
no subject
2008-11-02 16:49 (UTC)I'd like to read your stuff, too.
no subject
2008-11-03 15:28 (UTC)I may post something later, once I get back into it a bit more. I really need to spread out beyond Firefly, too. For one thing, I haven't even watched it in years, and I've lost the cadence. Plus, it's time to try something new, I think.
no subject
2008-11-03 15:35 (UTC)Oh, I am, just not for NaNoWriMo. I did last year but this year I must force myself to pack something every day rather than write something every day. The latter is MUCH mroe fun, though, is it not? I'm still doing my "gay wizard porn" (although it's nto really porn) and writing for a bunch of fests, etc.
It's hard to branch out. I need to do so, too. Or even get back to original fiction. Eeek!
no subject
2008-11-02 23:14 (UTC)no subject
2008-11-03 02:55 (UTC)I can do 10 minutes. I think. *L* I nearly succeeded at NaNoWriMo one year, but serious momentum at the end. One must have ooooodles of spare time to hit your word target daily!
I cannot WAIT til this bloody election is over.
no subject
2008-11-03 15:29 (UTC)no subject
2008-11-03 15:30 (UTC)no subject
2008-11-03 14:49 (UTC)no subject
2008-11-03 15:31 (UTC)no subject
2008-11-04 10:05 (UTC)*smooches*