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.

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