In some ways I really feel like my writerly development is highly embryonic, but I guess that's part of the trial by fire that is the process for all good things. What would it be worth if it was an easy and all-the-time fun process. Not that I don't ultimately love it, but it's hard and a lot of my current work feels sloppy and droll and whatever.
Anyway, I've broke through a little on the autobio project, and got to a place where I'm a little more comfortable and ambulatory, which is nice. I've also got Eddie the Grouch, which is my semi-amusing working title for the schitzoid paraniod man project, into solid structural shape to actually dig in and do some writing. On that note, I'm thinking that I'm going to make the thing two acts with an epilogue as opposed to the traditional three because it just feels more natural for the project. The idea is to get to the final filmic ending with swelling music and solid feel good moment (as much as is possible), and then fade back in on Eddie sitting on his front porch slouched and depressed smoking a cigarette. Then through the epilogue we get that he is in a solid place and moving forward with his life but slightly slipping back into the insanity of his paranoia. I mean just because he writes the book doesn't mean he's off the hook. Not in my world it doesn't.
A sometimes half-arsed record of the process of writing in its' variegated many forms.
- A reminiscence
- stylistics, bravery, tapioca
- It's beyond time
- I'm checking in, I'm checking out
- Self help book for the slightly inebriated
- detached irony
- Where it's at
- satiated and still not satisfied
- Editorializing for a cup of tea
- Choral structures, Coffee split, and other tidbits...
- Eddie the Grouch
- period of the zygote
- ▼ 02 (13)