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Yay for shiny new fandoms! I've just finished a 9000 word story, all but 3 pages of which I wrote today. I have another short story raring to go, as well as vivid ideas for the first few parts of an epic, and copious notes on the rest of it. I woke up at 6 with dialogue so clear in my head that I had to get up and write. Stories are gleefully chattering to me as I drive, as I shower, as I lie in bed. I just want to write, write, write. (Okay, I still do the procrastinate, procrastinate, procrastinate thing before I actually write the first sentence, but once that's passed...)
I haven't had this feeling for ages. I wondered if I'd ever get it again. I've been 10 months slowly plodding through a 250 page story (now finished), and it was a hard slog. I'm pleased with the stuff I've written in the last few years, but, except in the case of occasional one-off humour pieces, the joy had gone. I looked longingly back to my X-Files days, and, even more than that, to my days of writing stories just for myself and for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
evilmissbecky, with no thought of posting. That was the pinnacle of the joy of writing. I dated most of my stories, and I can see that I was writing 200 page stories in one a wild, happy month, and sometimes less. Unplanned, poorly structured stories, yet, but words flowed in my sleep, kept me awake, got me up early. Characters tapped me on the shoulder at all sorts of awkward moments, telling me that the story needed to go just so, and what on earth did I know about it?
I felt something approaching that today. It wasn't the same as it used to be; I doubt it ever will be. There's so much more stuff out there now than there used to be, and I can't just write for 6 hours, pausing only to make coffee. Every now and then, as I pause in a scene, I find myself checking LJ, or hopping around a few websites. But, still, I've done ten hours of fairly solid writing. Yay!
The only downside: I now have to go and do the week's shop, just as town clogs up with all the home-time traffic. Not yay.
EDIT: By the way, lest anyone get the wrong idea, I should add that I'm off work today, because I'm working tomorrow.
I haven't had this feeling for ages. I wondered if I'd ever get it again. I've been 10 months slowly plodding through a 250 page story (now finished), and it was a hard slog. I'm pleased with the stuff I've written in the last few years, but, except in the case of occasional one-off humour pieces, the joy had gone. I looked longingly back to my X-Files days, and, even more than that, to my days of writing stories just for myself and for
evilmissbecky, with no thought of posting. That was the pinnacle of the joy of writing. I dated most of my stories, and I can see that I was writing 200 page stories in one a wild, happy month, and sometimes less. Unplanned, poorly structured stories, yet, but words flowed in my sleep, kept me awake, got me up early. Characters tapped me on the shoulder at all sorts of awkward moments, telling me that the story needed to go just so, and what on earth did I know about it? I felt something approaching that today. It wasn't the same as it used to be; I doubt it ever will be. There's so much more stuff out there now than there used to be, and I can't just write for 6 hours, pausing only to make coffee. Every now and then, as I pause in a scene, I find myself checking LJ, or hopping around a few websites. But, still, I've done ten hours of fairly solid writing. Yay!
The only downside: I now have to go and do the week's shop, just as town clogs up with all the home-time traffic. Not yay.
EDIT: By the way, lest anyone get the wrong idea, I should add that I'm off work today, because I'm working tomorrow.
