Friday, June 13, 2008

Dammit

You know that feeling you get when you realize that the narrator and protagonist of your new short story, of which you've written 11 pretty well sparkling pages, would work better if you sent the narrator's boss home and gave your narrator a promotion? And then, when you're looking over this story with its really pretty polished prose and the bon mots and the killer similes and whatnot, you realize the story would be a whole lot better if the narrator were a girl, not a guy? And then you see, even as you're trying not to see, that you're not really looking at some minor adjustment where you save all that deathless prose? You know that feeling? When you've got to throw it all away and start over?

I don't really know where I'm going with this. It just sucks is all.

3 comments:

  1. Oh geez. Maybe you should just let it sit for a day or two? This sort of mutiny of your characters must be handled lightly...

    Luck!

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  2. Yeah, I'll see how I feel about it tomorrow. I know I want to change the job, and I know why (motivation). I have a feeling I want to change the gender, but I'm not sure why, which makes me nervous. I'll either figure out why (or why not) and get unnervous, or I'll take a run at it tomorrow and see how it goes.

    It's just words, and I wouldn't stress about it, except I'm going to have an almost-two-week interruption at the beginning of July. I'd like to have a solid draft done by then. I wish I were the kind of person who could bang this out in an afternoon, but I'm just not.

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  3. Lee,

    I'm not a writer - I scribble with crayola's. But, I have my own creative outlets, and for me, sometimes pretty good, is good enough. Seeing something done matters more to me that the endless iterations and revisions that would have made it spectacular. Of course, that's why there are some lines on my house which aren't straight, and half the things I dream up, wind up being kluges. Still, I find about 30 minutes to stare at what I've done for the day and just absorb how great it is in my mind. My wife has learned to deal with my staring...I go outside and wander around and look at my projects and eventually remember to come back inside. She thinks I've developed A.D.D. She might be right, but I digress.
    Good luck with the story. I'd like to read another of yours....
    Mark

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