Oops! Writer late at night....
Somehow my blog on P.D. James was copied twice. Sorry.
A reminder not to blog when you are very tired or have had one glass too many of your favorite drink.
I wonder if others get this compulsion to write. I think I should be working on a personal essay or some such. I've written myself out on the novel today. I reached a place, after a hard to write scene, and was done . But I'm not done writing. And so I'm here blogging when perhaps I should be writing.(And what is the difference? There's a question to ponder.)
I more and more want to try some short pieces as diversions from the long haul of the novel. Maybe the kind of pieces I published back in my thirties/largely personal essays.
I also wonder if I have an obligation to use whatever small talent I have to write out against the politics running our country. My view, right or wrong, shouldn't I be expressing it? A friend just wrote me about the necessity to have "moral outrage" in your work. I am pondering that; provocative thought.
I need to sit down and wander into the rabbit holes that fill my mind, trip into one and fall, fall, fall, until some bramble bush catches me and there is a spark of an idea- something I wish and need to write about. And then I will immediateley start to write, sloppily, maybe even on the back page of the novel I'm reading. But it will be a genuine start.
And later at home, at the laptop, I'll translate into something more stable.
I am impatient and want to know, NOW, what the topic is, perhaps so I can tell you. But that's not how it works. All I can share with you is that Julie, my dear lead character is castigating herself with guilt and has no immediate way of shaking loose from it.
How fascinating that she is me and yet she is not me at all. She is definitely my child, but even then, she runs beyond me, and does not do the predicted. I am so new at this novel writing business. I wonder how many I will have to write before I have an idea what I'm doing.
Good night. I hope this doesn't post twice. Claire, AKA, Aella (whirlwind)
A reminder not to blog when you are very tired or have had one glass too many of your favorite drink.
I wonder if others get this compulsion to write. I think I should be working on a personal essay or some such. I've written myself out on the novel today. I reached a place, after a hard to write scene, and was done . But I'm not done writing. And so I'm here blogging when perhaps I should be writing.(And what is the difference? There's a question to ponder.)
I more and more want to try some short pieces as diversions from the long haul of the novel. Maybe the kind of pieces I published back in my thirties/largely personal essays.
I also wonder if I have an obligation to use whatever small talent I have to write out against the politics running our country. My view, right or wrong, shouldn't I be expressing it? A friend just wrote me about the necessity to have "moral outrage" in your work. I am pondering that; provocative thought.
I need to sit down and wander into the rabbit holes that fill my mind, trip into one and fall, fall, fall, until some bramble bush catches me and there is a spark of an idea- something I wish and need to write about. And then I will immediateley start to write, sloppily, maybe even on the back page of the novel I'm reading. But it will be a genuine start.
And later at home, at the laptop, I'll translate into something more stable.
I am impatient and want to know, NOW, what the topic is, perhaps so I can tell you. But that's not how it works. All I can share with you is that Julie, my dear lead character is castigating herself with guilt and has no immediate way of shaking loose from it.
How fascinating that she is me and yet she is not me at all. She is definitely my child, but even then, she runs beyond me, and does not do the predicted. I am so new at this novel writing business. I wonder how many I will have to write before I have an idea what I'm doing.
Good night. I hope this doesn't post twice. Claire, AKA, Aella (whirlwind)


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