Apr. 26th, 2005

edenfalling: stylized black-and-white line art of a sunset over water (Default)
I wrote more of "Secrets" last night, and the Christmas morning bits have become a sort of scene in their own right. It feels odd to be writing this story again, perhaps since I let it slide for several months this winter, perhaps because I've been spending so much time working in a different fandom (Naruto), and perhaps just because it's been almost three years since I started writing "Secrets." I'm stumbling a bit in my own story, like I'm a stranger in my own imagination.

Oh, it'll read just as well as any of the other chapters, I'm sure, but it feels different as I put the words together.

Sometimes when I write, everything comes together and I know that the story is going to say what I want it to say, be what I want it to be, and be true, even if it may not be the best writing ever, or the most well-constructed plot, or particularly brilliant dialogue. Other times, the words flow easily and I'm just having fun, even if I don't feel particularly inspired. There are times when writing is like pulling teeth -- sometimes because I can't figure out how to say what happens, and sometimes because I just don't know what happens next. Sometimes both at once, which is usually when I take a break for a few days until I can work past the roadblock in my subconscious.

Right now, though, the words are coming without much trouble, and I can figure out what happens without beating my head against a wall, but it's not all that fun, and the story isn't pulling together and saying "This way, now, like that." It's just words on a screen, and they're rambling. They'll get me where I want to go, and I know from experience that people reading later won't really see any difference between words I write this way and words I write other ways, but I know.

And I want the fun back. Or the rightness. Or even the brick wall, because at least then I know that somewhere in the back of my mind I have a plan important enough that I can't go against it.

Just now, I'm not connecting with my story. And I hate that.

Because when the story isn't in me, and I'm not in the story, it feels hollow.
edenfalling: stylized black-and-white line art of a sunset over water (Default)
I wrote more of "Secrets" last night, and the Christmas morning bits have become a sort of scene in their own right. It feels odd to be writing this story again, perhaps since I let it slide for several months this winter, perhaps because I've been spending so much time working in a different fandom (Naruto), and perhaps just because it's been almost three years since I started writing "Secrets." I'm stumbling a bit in my own story, like I'm a stranger in my own imagination.

Oh, it'll read just as well as any of the other chapters, I'm sure, but it feels different as I put the words together.

Sometimes when I write, everything comes together and I know that the story is going to say what I want it to say, be what I want it to be, and be true, even if it may not be the best writing ever, or the most well-constructed plot, or particularly brilliant dialogue. Other times, the words flow easily and I'm just having fun, even if I don't feel particularly inspired. There are times when writing is like pulling teeth -- sometimes because I can't figure out how to say what happens, and sometimes because I just don't know what happens next. Sometimes both at once, which is usually when I take a break for a few days until I can work past the roadblock in my subconscious.

Right now, though, the words are coming without much trouble, and I can figure out what happens without beating my head against a wall, but it's not all that fun, and the story isn't pulling together and saying "This way, now, like that." It's just words on a screen, and they're rambling. They'll get me where I want to go, and I know from experience that people reading later won't really see any difference between words I write this way and words I write other ways, but I know.

And I want the fun back. Or the rightness. Or even the brick wall, because at least then I know that somewhere in the back of my mind I have a plan important enough that I can't go against it.

Just now, I'm not connecting with my story. And I hate that.

Because when the story isn't in me, and I'm not in the story, it feels hollow.

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edenfalling: stylized black-and-white line art of a sunset over water (Default)
Elizabeth Culmer

July 2025

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