March 30, 2011
I think I'm tired of people telling me to write a novel. Nope. I'm positive I'm tired of it. I thought I wanted to for a while. It just seemed like the sensible course of action from as far back as grade school. That's what writers do, yes?
I've figured something out. My mind doesn't work that way. It isn't fun. It makes no sense to me. It just makes no goddamn sense.
I just want to play. I want to build a lego castle with words and then stomp on it with big, heavy boots. That's fun. I want to stuff a bunch of letters and words into water guns and have a water gun fight. I could drive around neighborhoods at night and smash mailboxes with a story. THAT would be awesome.
But a book?
Not so much.
Carefully flowing from one ingeniously conceived concept to the next? Not me. Something wriggling and slimy will come along and my interest will be held captive.
Meticulously crafted plot lines and riveting twists? Oh no. I'd use a sparkly purple dragon as a super sexy deus ex machina in an 18th century British political drama. That makes total sense.
So. I've decided. I will not write a novel. Instead, I will be a sparkly purple dragon.
Carry on.
17 minions who have sucked on my crap:
Sparkly "anything" is fun!.
I'm an "aspiring" writer. I've written one novel and almost done with the second one. But no one wants to publish the first one. Haters. But I keep writing. To me, it's fun and it's my escape and I love it! I wish I could make a living doing this because I would quit my job tomorrow! -Sorry, I seem to have diareah of the words tonight... (and I probably butchered diareah too. I never could spell that word!)
I'll take you anyway I can get you. I was telling my wife the other day" you know how you can cuss and make it sound pretty? Well you have a sister in North Carolina somewhere". I enjoy both of your blobs. Thanks for throwing the party.
I think somewhere in my brain there is enough crap for a book. Then there is the whole lack of time/ambition/giveafuck that gets in the way.
Never gonna happen.
wouldn't it be great if we could just play? why won't they just let us play?
Good luck with the dragon gig. lol
"I'd use a sparkly purple dragon as a super sexy deus ex machina in an 18th century British political drama. That makes total sense."
Actually the movie adaptation of that would be a trip. I've always wanted to write a novel. My problem is that I wouldn't know where to begin or go with it. Nowadays novels are written by mediocre writers who have to make sure they write a "series" in order to keep people interested. Writing is dead. It's just a toy for us to play with here in the blogosphere.
I just read an article on Mary Higgins Clark in the WSJ. Yes, I know how insipid she is. But, she has an AMAZING record of regular publishing. She's 83 and still puts out a best seller every year. She is so consistent the profits she generates are included in her publisher's budget as guaranteed income.
I have no idea why I think anyone would be interested in these facts, but it seems a formula and a good work ethic made this woman. She's freakin' 83 and still writing like it's an 8-5 gig. At her age and with her money, I would have been doing something else by now.
I could never (NEVER) write a fiction work. I've had a few ideas for non-fiction based on a few things that have happened to me or that I see as social injustice. But...what always stops me is feeling like people in general don't give a shit anymore. These days, the shit has to hit the fan and it has to splatter all over someone's face and in his oatmeal before notice is taken.
Case-in-point: My son was head-butted in the rib cage at middle school while waiting for me and the principal told me it was no big deal since it only happened once and the kid didn't threaten to kick my son's ass, just attacked him. And I was laughed at when I said it was assault.
Yes, I'm rambling, but I have to agree that writing a book seems a bit like drudgery.
In related news, I can't find my Beck - Odelay CD.
crap
Dude, did you know Beck is a scientologist? Max creepy.
@ Barb- You have no idea how many times I've thought the very same thing about fiction. My heart just isn't in it. My life has been interesting enough without having to make up shit. Respect for people who do it, and do it well, but it's not me. And there is no way I could be a crap factory of pages. I could never taint the English language in the name of dollar signs.
I would have gone completely fucking crazy on that principal. There would have been the throwing of things involved. I would show him what assault is. And then I would get arrested and realize I just taught my the kids the exact opposite of what I was trying to accomplish. But at least I'd feel good about myself.
I believe I started following you after the hypersexuality post on 30+. That was... raw.
People say a lot of things that they haven't really thought through, even if their hearts are in the right place. If the novel suggestions come from people closest to you, who really know you, then you should think about it. Otherwise, the blog is just fine as a genre in itself - both private and public, artsy and goofy, fiction and non-fiction. It is what you make of it.
The trouble with novels is that they require so much bloody COMMITMENT.
Such a bore to slave over a computer screen, fretting about plot development.
What with all the Spaniards available with their own brand of development on offer...
- B x
NaNoWriMo. You've got your tag line, now al you have to do is create a 50,000 word novel to flesh it out. Start Nov. 1, end Nov 30. That's NAtional NOvel WRIting MOnth. Give it a whack - what do you have to lose, beside a little sanity?
@ Chris- Yeah, THAT post. I actually think I wrote that to convince myself I'm not just a whore with issues.
@ Ms B- I'm in love with you over here, too.
@ Bikinfool- Oh, I've heard of NaNoWriMo. Every November I click over there. And then chicken out.
Fun filled Fucking Fun!
Sorry - it's a saying my husband has. For anything in life. As long as it's fun, it's worth doing. Of course this means putting the cat in the fridge because she asked to be put inside, setting my feng shui garden alight nearly giving me a heart attack as I got out of the shower and blasting the new office walls fill of holes with the nail gun.
To that, he is not allowed to work with power tools, touch the cat or have a lighter and lighter fluid at the same time.
Oh, and I get what you're saying about the novel. I am a poet. Working on anything longer than a page gets me urked and it is a skill I can't seem to master.
I still want to write one though.
Maybe you should write a children's book about a little girl and her purple sparkly dragon. I will illustrate it for you. Or you can illustrate and I will write. Combo?
Helloooo Aimee,
I've been thinking on this. Maybe you should become a Groupon writer? They seriously endorse word play!! The more absurd the better.
Touché, Aimee. Maybe I needed someone to say that for me so that I wouldn't feel like a whore with (different) issues myself...
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Suck on my crap