The work, which becomes a new genre itself...
The work, which becomes a new genre itself...
|
2004-05-20-5:33 p.m. I had gone to no such place but to smoke of the cafes and nights when the room whirled and you needed to look at the wall to make it stop, nights in bed, drunk, when you knew that that was all there was, and the strange excitement of waking and not knowing who it was with you, and the world all unreal in the dark and so exciting that you must resume again unknowing and not caring in the night, sure that this was all and all and all and not caring. Suddenly to care very much and to sleep, to wake with it sometimes morning and all that had been there gone and everything sharp and hard and clear and sometimes a dispute about the cost. Sometimes still pleasant and fond and warm and breakfast and lunch. Sometimes all niceness gone and glad to get out on the street but always another day starting and then another night." (Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms, chapter 3) -------------------------- That is writting. And now I'm in the limbo called revising. And it's harder than writting from scratch. Now ideas have to be reexamined, characters rebuilt, knowing the problems with the story yet to overcome the problems is daunting. But I'm making progress... I've went from abstract to post-abstract. They use to be simple white walls that a young man admired. Now they are walls that rise up to infinity, sleek, and have images floating through them. It's getting scary. The writting needs to be cleaned up for this to work. I'll be thinking about this a lot. I'm glad writting has a backspace button... or a select all delete button. Oh, but the ideas are starting to come together. Writting is hard because sometimes we don't ask all 100 questions that need to be asked for the story. It either needs more or less. That balance. Sometimes an idea should be continued, it needs more than that one line. Other times, sentences need to be hacked apart. OK, time to leave... my head has been in the books too long.
|