There are lots of things I could go without for a while. A few weeks ago I realized that I’d let the Internet take hold of me and considered another 40 day purge. This produced a surprising reaction in a few friends who reminded me that at the end of it I was miserable and there were lots of things I said I wouldn’t ever do again. I remember feeling isolated, and now is not the time to try that again. Plus, I have loads more internet friends this time around. I’d hate to vanish on them for nearly 2 months. I tried sussing out the details, to come up with a schedule/set of restrictions that made sense, but by the time it was all over, I realized I should just do those things anyway and I wasn’t really “sacrificing” as much as fixing. Plus, Lent was fast approaching and I didn’t really have that much time to plan.
So, I’m stuck.
This happens every so often. I start craving a specific type of story and I can’t let it go. If whatever I’m currently reading doesn’t fit the bill, I can’t focus on it. I’ve started three books in the last few days, questing for the “right” combination of voice, plot, and character and they’ve all been dissatisfying. I’ve flitted through my stack of books (both tangible and digital) over this same time and nothing even looks like it’s going to be the right fit for this craving.
The solution is somewhat obvious: write it.
Which works. It’s the primary reason fiction gets into and then out of my brain. The trouble is that until I have a better idea of what this story looks like, I can’t write it either. I flit from idea to idea the same way I do with the books. It’s like the craving itself is distracting me from fulfilling it. In the mean time i just, well, I flit.
And flitting is annoying.
apparently, my muse is also reading harry potter. i haven’t been able to write a thing since finishing the book. i keep looking for pictures inside my head to write down, but it’s a huge blank. i’ve gone through older outlines and half-started story attempts in the hopes that something will get triggered, but it’s like trying to light a wet fuse. granted, it’s only been a couple of days, but it’s disturbing for her to close up shop so fiercely. usually i can stumble across *something* to trigger a scene, even if i can’t get it down to my satisfaction, but this? there’s no scene. i can almost feel her sitting in the corner of my head, slowly rocking against the wall, refusing to listen to me.
why do i blame the book?
i was already feeling a bit self-conscious about writing thanks to a conversation ryan and i had about it a few days earlier, so i’m sure that’s contributing, but it’s like the plot of this book has blocked everything else. if it was filling my brain with things about the book, it’d be okay, because then i’d just write about them, but it’s not, it’s just stopped the flow.
i’m distracted by the crossroads that she has left the characters. if joss whedon had written harry potter, i wouldn’t be worried, because i trust joss, even when he does very bad things. i don’t trust her, because i don’t know her. i’ll probably elaborate more in a comment (because they don’t show up on the main page), not to the point of being a true spoiler, but just because things inferred from comments can be just as spoilery as actual plot points.
gah! i can’t even finish off a post properly. i’ve spent entirely too long shuffling sentences about, trying to get everything to flow right, but it just won’t end.
sigh. i’m hopeless.