Never mind, I’m just as fuckin’ stuck as I was two posts ago.
I said, in an e-mail just now, that it’s as if I was a pretty good fish a little while ago, good at the swimming and remembering three seconds of the past and extracting oxygen from the water, and then I got it into my head to go up on land and now I can’t walk, or flop, or breathe. It’s a dodgy metaphor, but it works for me. I really stepped up a level, I think, with “dark to end all nights,” and now am fumbling around really, really blindly trying to figure out how things work in this new place.
If this all sounds like hyperbole, I know. But it’s the only way I can talk about it. And talking about it is useful.
Typing up “Josef’s Train,” I really hate it, and keep stopping the typing process every half page or so, just bored. I can’t be arsed to type it, that’s how much I don’t like it. And my brain is so cranky at it, that as I’m typing, I’m mentally tearing the story down and rebuilding it into something that works much better.
The NEXT story, “Keepers,” has the same vibe as “dark to end all nights” did. The same level of depth and weight and interest and character moments, I just keep thinking about it and running it around and playing with it. So I’m trying to figure out how that one functions, how “dark” functions, how another story I’m vaguely working on functions, and how stories like Josef’s Train DON’T function.
One of the tricky things is, for the first time ever, writing got HARD. And not just the finding-time-to-write business, which is always tough. The actual mental ACT is hard. If I went up a level, writing-wise, then this level requires a lot more muscle and exertion. So I need to figure out how that works too. what do i do, what don’t I do, in order to better be able to write, now that it’s this hard?
I’ll figure it out. I’ll just babble endlessly in the process.