serinde: (Syringa vulgaris)
For as long as I can remember, people have told me that I should be a writer. Which makes it every flavor of ironic that I have never made any advancement whatsoever in such a direction. --I lie; there is a carefully-hidden plastic binder containing a number of scrawled pages produced at approximately age 14 that embody the worst type of Mary Sue-ified teenage crap you can imagine; and even at that tender age I couldn't re-read them without cringing. But other than that minor fit, no. Why should that be? I'm certainly a more-than-competent wordsmith; why have I never made a conscious decision to focus on that skill? Time to unpack. )
serinde: (academentia)
As previously threatened, I have this week started getting up earlier (6am), I do half an hour of yoga, make a cup of tea, and then write for half an hour. Heretofore, "writing" has meant "morning pages", but what came out of said pages today--coupled with a sudden screeching left turn last night into a whole new distracting line of potential 14th century research--is that I also want to increase my output of semi-public production, whether that be organized personal nattering here, creative writing ... elsewhere, research essays, or posts to the blog [ profile] nedlnthred keeps trying to get us to collectively start. At the moment, I am leaning towards preserving that half-hour for morning pages; I think their role as Colon Cleanse For Your Brain is critical. Moreover, if I actually get into a serious writing groove, I don't want to have it arbitrarily cut short by having to proceed to work. (But I can flag things in that brain dump to write about or research later.)

I have decided to give myself permission to take the equivalent of a coffee break at work to write small posts like this one; I will accordingly reduce the rest of my usual fuckin'-around-on-intarwubs periods. Not that I have oodles of it anyways, but what I have is better spent thus than hitting reload on Facebook for the umpteenth time.

For more in-depth writing, well... I haven't historically had a lot of success with reserving a regular evening or time slot for $PERSONAL_THING, though I understand that's how Serious Writers roll; for me, the exigencies of the moment have always steamrollered it. "Oh, but I gotta do laundry." "Oh, but I gotta pay bills." "Oh, I just don't feel it tonight." I could try that again--and actually commit to it this time, make it a priority--or, the technique which worked for the last couple of knitting projects, is to commit not an entire evening to $THING, but set aside 1-2 hours. With knitting or sewing, it was a little easier; I could say "I'm going to watch one episode of Burn Notice/two episodes of Tiger & Bunny/[etc.] and do handwork" and that reserved a clearly defined chunk of time, but also left enough of the evening to eat, clean up, and do a couple chores as needed. I feel that writing and research will be more difficult to parcel out this way, but if I don't, I think it will keep not ever happening.
serinde: ("What fresh hell?")
Had our first Artist's Way meeting last night, which was mostly just organizational and talking about the process rather than Doing The First Chapter even. And I got up and did my morning pages like a good girl, started getting dressed, came in to check Teh Intarweb weather reports...

...and instead wrote the beginning of a story. Something I haven't done, nor even attempted, for what, ten years? This is scary, in a good way, I think. But also just scary.

(The true test, of course, will be if I can write the middle of it. But to have started at all is...yeah.)


serinde: (Default)

September 2013

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