A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Four-Hundred-And-Fifty-Two

Things in the story I am writing have taken a bit of a turn tonight.  I was not certain where it would go, exactly, and it has developed in a way that is a bit unexpected, but I am enjoying the shift.  It was already an odd story, and now it is getting to a place of real weirdness, I think.  I don't know if it is anything that anyone else would want to read, to be honest.  I am writing it and just keeping going because that is the task.  If I start worrying about the rest of it, about what is good or bad and whether it is working right now, I think it would overwhelm me in a certain way and I wouldn't have the ability to keep going.  It may just be that I need to get to the end and I will realize what I have been doing all along, or it may be junk and I won't ever want to look at it again, but most likely it will be somewhere in the middle and I will need to go back and work on it to make everything fit together.  At the moment, I am just allowing myself the freedom that I need to get the story on the page in the first place, and I have to realize that a big part of that, at least in writing fiction, is just letting myself go with no concern for what comes of it at first.  I think I had a similar need when I was first getting myself to the place where I was writing poetry regularly, so it may be that this is just a part of what I need to do to get myself to that point in relationship to fiction as well.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

What is this whole blog thing for anyway?

VanderMeer's Wonderbook, Chapter Four: Narrative Design (Continued)

Poem: It Was A Promise