Happy Fun Times!

When I consider the 2500 words that I have written so far, I am filled with rage and self-loathing.  I hate my solo fiction writing.  In collaborative writing, I know the established setting: I can see it in my mind, and I know that whoever I’m writing with can see it too.  I know who my audience is.  Most of all, I can feed off of their passion, and their ideas.

Writing alone feels a lot like eating alone, except that I don’t have to do it to live, and it isn’t delicious.

I do not intend to reread any of what I have written until I finish my first draft or give up on this project entirely.  I don’t need the discouragement.

Which brings me to something else I’m not enjoying about this process: it feels like being back in school.  Not the blowing off class to get drunk in the Uni bar and yell at my compatriots about matters of import part, or the passionate class discussions part, or the bouncing ideas off of enthusiastic professors part.  No, it feels like the part of school where you’re enslaved by it, where your every waking moment is consumed with the guilt of not working, where your time belongs to a project and not to you.

Interestingly, however, as much as I’m despising this process, I know that I’m going to be drawn back to it.  Last night, I kept being reminded of how much I disliked what I was writing and, yet, by the time a couple of hours had gone by it became increasingly difficult to put my laptop down.  I kept wanting to write just a few more sentences, finish the paragraph, finish the scene.  I’m not sure where this addiction to trash production comes from, but I guess I’d better use it while it’s there.

Update: At least I can post on this blog in red font and it looks AWESOME.