It's the way my life seems to be these days, full of ups and downs, positives and negatives, hopes and the inevitable disappointments. I think a lot of it has to do with the way I write - several long and intense sessions one after the other. It's fine when things are going well, when the words mean what you want them to mean, but it can break your heart sometimes when you read them next day and see them for the garbage they really are.
Then again, they're not really garbage, I like to think I stopped writing true garbage a long time ago. It's just that sometimes that's what they look like, that's what they sound like. There's no harsher critic of my own work than me! I can be a right bastard sometimes, but hell, if I can't criticise my own work then who can?
Most of the time it's deserved. I set my standards high, always have done, and when they fall short, I get mad with myself. Like today, or rather yesterday - that's where the problem was - yesterday. It's just taken me most of today to put things right again, but I've done it, and that's the important thing. I might only have written some 700 NEW words today, but it's the 17 pages of rewrites that have made everything worthwhile.
Think I've said this before somewhere, but if I'm still eager to learn at 64 years of age, then I'm still a writer. A tired one maybe, and not in the best seller category just yet, but I'm getting there. I can almost hear you laughing, but just keep watching this space.
Chris
Tuesday, 21 April 2009
Saturday, 11 April 2009
It's been a long week...
The usual ups and downs with a lot of ordinary writing topped off by some that was downright poor. That's the way things seem to go sometimes, no matter how much I might wish that they didn't. Guess that's something I'll need to work on in the coming months.
Amongst other things I've been talking to Falmouth, and have now been roped in to write a regular, bi-weekly column of some 300 words on subjects of my own choosing for the Uni mag. That's pretty cool, and I guess it won't harm my prospects as long as I can cope with the rest of the course.
I've also logged into a few of their facebook sites for next year, a new and scary experience for me, but that's one of the reasons I'm doing this - the new experiences I mean.
One other piece of news; I shaved off the beard this morning. Not sure whether it's two or three years I've had it this time, but now it's been gone the best part of twelve hours and Sheila hasn't noticed a damn thing. Julie and the kids will be over in the morning; wonder how long it'll take them to notice?
Guess I'll just have to wait and find out.
Chris
Addenda - Sunday morning, Sheila noticed the beard had gone this morning - only took her 22 hours. Julie noticed the moment she walked through the door.
Amongst other things I've been talking to Falmouth, and have now been roped in to write a regular, bi-weekly column of some 300 words on subjects of my own choosing for the Uni mag. That's pretty cool, and I guess it won't harm my prospects as long as I can cope with the rest of the course.
I've also logged into a few of their facebook sites for next year, a new and scary experience for me, but that's one of the reasons I'm doing this - the new experiences I mean.
One other piece of news; I shaved off the beard this morning. Not sure whether it's two or three years I've had it this time, but now it's been gone the best part of twelve hours and Sheila hasn't noticed a damn thing. Julie and the kids will be over in the morning; wonder how long it'll take them to notice?
Guess I'll just have to wait and find out.
Chris
Addenda - Sunday morning, Sheila noticed the beard had gone this morning - only took her 22 hours. Julie noticed the moment she walked through the door.
Monday, 6 April 2009
I aint no wimp...
What do you do when the words won't come? When they seem to drift away into a mist of mediocrity , almost mocking you as they morph into pale imitations of the ones you meant them to be? Do you look back like me, at the work you've done over the past weeks and months, and realise that things have been going wrong for ages and you never even realised? What do you do then?
Like so many other questions I don't think there is an answer to that, not a definitive one anyway. I suspect it's a question all writers ask themselves at some point, but even that knowledge doesn't make it any easier when the dark moments come; when the frustration boils over into anger and self loathing.
Some would reach for the whisky I suppose, or roll a spliff; maybe even go hunt for a whore if that's what floats your boat. Something to match that sense of self loathing I'm feeling right now... Correction - that I WAS feeling when I first sat down and stared at a pristine white page with only a winking cursor to keep me company.
'F**k you,' it seemed to be saying to me. 'You're no writer, you're nothing but a wimp...' and for a while it was right.
Not sure how long I sat here this morning, trying to make sense of the words milling around in my head like a swarm of angry bees, noisy, aggressive and threatening. Then my fingers reached out and began to hit the keys.
The words I was seeing in my head were 'Damn you Pia...', though the ones that appeared on the page were actually 'I ain't no wimp...'
Only she and I will ever know the truth of it.
Chris.
Like so many other questions I don't think there is an answer to that, not a definitive one anyway. I suspect it's a question all writers ask themselves at some point, but even that knowledge doesn't make it any easier when the dark moments come; when the frustration boils over into anger and self loathing.
Some would reach for the whisky I suppose, or roll a spliff; maybe even go hunt for a whore if that's what floats your boat. Something to match that sense of self loathing I'm feeling right now... Correction - that I WAS feeling when I first sat down and stared at a pristine white page with only a winking cursor to keep me company.
'F**k you,' it seemed to be saying to me. 'You're no writer, you're nothing but a wimp...' and for a while it was right.
Not sure how long I sat here this morning, trying to make sense of the words milling around in my head like a swarm of angry bees, noisy, aggressive and threatening. Then my fingers reached out and began to hit the keys.
The words I was seeing in my head were 'Damn you Pia...', though the ones that appeared on the page were actually 'I ain't no wimp...'
Only she and I will ever know the truth of it.
Chris.
Thursday, 2 April 2009
Writing angry...
It's been a problem for me of late, or has it? I'm still trying to come to a decision on that one and thought it might be an idea to talk things through here.
I guess a good writer has to be able to write on a whole range of subjects and I'm still looking for a voice I can truly call my own. Maybe Falmouth will solve my dilemma, maybe it won't, but at the very least I think it'll teach me to focus more precisely on what I'm trying to achieve.
Now I read that last sentence again, I realise it didn't end up saying what I thought I wanted to say. So why don't I change it? Because in reading it again, I realised that what I THOUGHT I wanted to say was actually b*ll***t. See? There I go again, writing angry. Let me explain.
I think I've been writing on too many fronts for too long. I'm still telling myself that I'm honing my skills, practising the craft if you like and never quite daring to think F**K IT - I'm going to concentrate on writing 'Horror', or 'Chick Lit', or (gasp) 'Pornography' for the next six months, just to see what comes out at the end. Maybe that's what I should be looking for, a focus.
I'm naturally lazy. For every ten reasons I have for doing a project, I can find eleven reasons for not doing it, and probably a lot more than that if I really put my mind to it. Actually I'm doing one of them now - writing a blog. Think I'd better go, the sun's shining and an hour or so in the garden would be a nice break... see what I mean?
Only the blessed or the well connected seem to get published these days. I'm neither, my only hope is to work hard at the job, and that's what I do... at least it will be once I've done the washing up, and vacuumed, and mowed the lawn and...
Chris
I guess a good writer has to be able to write on a whole range of subjects and I'm still looking for a voice I can truly call my own. Maybe Falmouth will solve my dilemma, maybe it won't, but at the very least I think it'll teach me to focus more precisely on what I'm trying to achieve.
Now I read that last sentence again, I realise it didn't end up saying what I thought I wanted to say. So why don't I change it? Because in reading it again, I realised that what I THOUGHT I wanted to say was actually b*ll***t. See? There I go again, writing angry. Let me explain.
I think I've been writing on too many fronts for too long. I'm still telling myself that I'm honing my skills, practising the craft if you like and never quite daring to think F**K IT - I'm going to concentrate on writing 'Horror', or 'Chick Lit', or (gasp) 'Pornography' for the next six months, just to see what comes out at the end. Maybe that's what I should be looking for, a focus.
I'm naturally lazy. For every ten reasons I have for doing a project, I can find eleven reasons for not doing it, and probably a lot more than that if I really put my mind to it. Actually I'm doing one of them now - writing a blog. Think I'd better go, the sun's shining and an hour or so in the garden would be a nice break... see what I mean?
Only the blessed or the well connected seem to get published these days. I'm neither, my only hope is to work hard at the job, and that's what I do... at least it will be once I've done the washing up, and vacuumed, and mowed the lawn and...
Chris
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
