From the National Day of Writing (Oct 20th)

Why write?

I don't know. Why read? It's amusing. It distracts. It transports. It reveals. Too many reasons and hardly any at all. There's very little in the way of logic about it. There's an embrace of abstract art, a sort of mysticism one wouldn't accept elsewhere in life.

Why write? Because it's endlessly surprising. I always shock myself with the things that pour out of my fingertips. Thoughts I didn't know I had. People I didn't realize I've met and studied. Situations that I would never have chosen to dissect or live through and yet here I am doing both.

It doesn't seem to matter much where ideas come from - be it some collective consciousness or higher power sparking inspiration. Even if it's only a product of re-hashing age old stories, nothing original, mere imitation of the basest sort... Writing always seems magical. Because with just a few words one can create worlds and people and ideas that never existed before. Because you can use it to communicate in a way speech will never let you (ink carries the promise of immortality). Because it seems to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once.

I mean, honestly. If you have to ask, it's obvious you don't do it. Or if you do, you don't get it. Even bad writers know that they HAVE to write. They get better. (If they don't, they probably end up making millions of dollars and getting movie franchises anyway because, hey, even poorly written stories tend to be universal in some way.)

I'm not concerned with literary quality - I'm concerned about the DRIVE to create. Why do we like to pen ourselves up with crazy thoughts and weird people we might not even like? Is this only a first world drive, to write? Does storytelling plague people without language? It transcends the ages of modern humanity, links us with our ancestors, passes on messages of hope against darkness, keeps people in line with other people...

Writing is a link to the past. It's a call to the future. It's a thought for the present.

Life must be so boring for those who don't write, who don't try to create, reach in and pull themselves out onto paper and screen.

In better news...

I decided to finally clean out my office. When I found this apartment on Craiglist, it was listed as a one bedroom. I was pleased and surprised to find out that there was a second almost-bedroom (only almost because the doors have glass panes in them from top to bottom. Back when I had just moved in, this is what that room looked like.

And then the boy moved in with me - and because we didn't have the wherewithal at the time to put his stuff in logical places, we piled it all in this room and shut the doors. And we left it that way all summer.

Me? I get the opposite of spring cleaning. I get autumn cleaning fever hardcore right around this time of year. I think it might be because I've spent the past six or seven years moving every August/September. So I opened the doors to the office yesterday and started moving stuff around.

Now I've got a beautiful space that feels like it could be a real writing room! Not to mention half a library. And sort of a sunroom. I'm hoping I'll have everything put away sufficiently in the next two days to put up some new glorious pictures to make everyone jealous.

Ohhh myyyy goddddd

There is TOO MUCH going on in my head these days. I keep trying to write it all day and I keep failing miserably. Someone kick me.

"Write, bitch, write!"

Progress or Lack Thereof

On Tuesday, my favorite author of all time, George R. R. Martin, released the fifth book in his fantasy series. (This would be the book A Dance With Dragons in the series A Song of Ice and Fire for those unacquainted with his work - and if you are, get thee to a library right away and get a copy of Game of Thrones.) I spent the majority of the day (I requested a vacation day from work) with a group of my closest friends reading said book. We drove to Burlington, MA to see GRRM and get him to sign our books. It was an exhausting and utterly inspiring day.

Reading George's books always puts me in the frame of mind to want to write and write and write. I say he's my favorite author of all time - not only because I enjoy the story he's created, but because he is a fantastic writer. He has a wonderful sense of words and character voices and he knows how to make a huge emotional impact on his readers without clobbering them over the head every other chapter. And he's unapologetic about his process. It took him almost six years to finish this book. And I don't begrudge him a single one of those days. How long have I been nominally working on Face the Flames now? Ten years? More? People in my life are forever urging me to finish. Telling me to just go on and find a publisher. Become famous. Retire young.

What do they know.

Writing is ridiculous. Taking it from a logical viewpoint, I don't understand why any of us chooses to do it. Taking it from my own viewpoint (often far from logical, I admit), I can't understand how any of us can ever stop. Or choose not to. Or quit.

Inspiration picture for Ariana, a very troublesome character indeed.

My current plan is to work on this book and ONLY this book until I'm done. I wanted to finish by year's end. We will see how far I get. I'm fixing things still. I can't just keep going without doing it because the biggest fix is a character that has always bothered me. She's one of my six point of view characters and the only one that I feel little emotional connection with. I've never known who she is, barely even who I wanted her to be. She's based on all of the female friends I've ever had - in parts caring, petty, jealous, gorgeous, and projecting an awesome self-confidence that she never feels in her heart. And up until now I've not been able to stitch all of those pieces into a coherent person.

Another inspiration picture for Ariana.

But George has inspired me. He finished his behemoth. (Kong, he called it.) And it's brilliant. More than worth the wait. So I'm going to be like him. Close my ears to my friends and family (I love you all and I appreciate the support, but sometimes it's all too much), and just write it the way I need to write.

Perhaps then it will be brilliant.

There can only be one.

I've been so frustrated with my writing lately. Too many projects with not enough focus = not enough writing. Every time I open a word document I just stare at it with this horrible exhausted feeling.

So. I'm going to set aside everything else and just work on Face the Flames. Until it's done. That's right. DONE. All 36 chapters of it. That means no super book for awhile. No Mortal Coils. No Wings of Destiny. No nothing except this, my first and most personal universe.

Bring it!