It is closer to morning on Wednesday than night on Tuesday, but I can't sleep. If my contacts didn't hurt so much, or my glasses would stay together, I'd just stay up tonight. Neither of those are the case.
I've been nagged. I have been on hiatus. hell no, i've been lazy. Playing games, playing house, playing play. Yet none of it makes me feel as though there is anything to show for the days that have passed, and i don't even have littel blog entries that i can point to for explanation. A kind of depression, a kind of head in the sand let it all go by kind of season. I've let myself detach in a way that is too much like what i always never wanted to be. The only connection to the person capable of that judment, that "what i always never wanted to be ness" comes when i can spit the words out of my way and just write.
I had a moment last week. I had a moment when the novel came alive and all the critiques i'd heard finally came together. I know now how to get all the characters in the same room together, which is the goal, they tell me, of a complex multi plotted novel. I didn't know it was suppoed to be so easy. That's why i go to workshops.
My goal in January was to write 20 flash pieces in that month, and I wrote only two. I had also a goal of having sections of the novel finished for each presentation time in workshop, and i did that. Not completely dead i suppose, but certainly in need of resuscitation.
I'll edit this tomorrow. If you read before then, all i have to say is that it is 4:09 am, and i've not slept.
Most truths are so naked that people feel sorry for them and cover them up,
at least a little bit. -Edward R. Murrow, journalist (1908-1965)
3 comments:
Looks good to me without the editing... certainly better than blank screen. ;)
Fluttering betweeen worlds is also a form of "be ness". Like a good sort of haunting where invisible threads of light suddenly reconnect across time and space. A moment of insight to hold on to and harness.
Stepping into that room is the ultimate form of play. Moving in and out of the shadows, careful not to intrude -but yet already a character performing on your own stage. "Moments" emerge that way -unexplainable, but tangible proof of the real bond between play and insight.
Something to show for the non-linear time spent flying through virtual worlds inhabited by the invisible dance of real feelings...
"[His]tory is one of the by-products of the emergence of writing" -Yuri Lotman, founder of cultural semiotics (1922-1993)
What are flash pieces ?
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