The writing process
Jun. 8th, 2009 11:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
marinessNope, not dead, although I admit that a few times last week I rather wondered, thanks to the nearly simultaneous attacks of not one, but two separate illnesses: my usual long term thing deciding to strike with unusual strength last week, and an unrelated virus that decided to hop along for the ride. Alas, this also meant that I did virtually no writing last week at the start of a month which was supposed to be a catch-up for last month, where I also did little writing. Grumble. And this week is not looking too promising either.
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To answer a point brought up sometime over the past couple of weekends, but I forgot by whom, I don't usually blog about my writing process much because I don't really have one. Each project, each story, each poem is a little different. Some writing starts as handwritten notes (although I do less and less of this, mostly because I can type considerably faster than I can write by hand, meaning that if I'm anywhere near a keyboard, I'll head there first since that way I can grab more of my original thought and flow.) Some writing starts as only a sentence, and I have to climb my way, cautiously, through to the end, following it as any reader will. Sometimes I know the ending of a story, but not the beginning. Sometimes – although this is rare for me – I do know the entire story, beginning, middle and end, and it's merely a question of getting it all down, shaping it, writing by mental dictation. Sometimes I think I know the entire story, only to find midway through that I really don't, or that that seemingly brilliant idea was, well, not so brilliant after all. Some poems I hear in my head, and try to catch before they flitter away; others – the fairynelles -- are more like word puzzles, done purely for my own entertainment.
Sometimes I write at a blind fury, other times, not so much. Sometimes I write in the morning (ok, not often); more usually, I write in the afternoon, or the evening. Sometimes, while I'm reading a book, a sentence will fall into my head, and I put the book down for a second – only a second – and then, two hours later realize I really have something here. Other times I have a sentence that goes nowhere.
A few things help: music, reading, knowing that I won't be interrupted for awhile. Trees. Little blue herons. Long baths with good books (words do seem to dance out of hot water.) A few things don't help: a cat putting his head on the keyboard at a bad moment (one cat is regrettably skilled at this).
He's giving my keyboard a few considering glances right now.
*******
To answer a point brought up sometime over the past couple of weekends, but I forgot by whom, I don't usually blog about my writing process much because I don't really have one. Each project, each story, each poem is a little different. Some writing starts as handwritten notes (although I do less and less of this, mostly because I can type considerably faster than I can write by hand, meaning that if I'm anywhere near a keyboard, I'll head there first since that way I can grab more of my original thought and flow.) Some writing starts as only a sentence, and I have to climb my way, cautiously, through to the end, following it as any reader will. Sometimes I know the ending of a story, but not the beginning. Sometimes – although this is rare for me – I do know the entire story, beginning, middle and end, and it's merely a question of getting it all down, shaping it, writing by mental dictation. Sometimes I think I know the entire story, only to find midway through that I really don't, or that that seemingly brilliant idea was, well, not so brilliant after all. Some poems I hear in my head, and try to catch before they flitter away; others – the fairynelles -- are more like word puzzles, done purely for my own entertainment.
Sometimes I write at a blind fury, other times, not so much. Sometimes I write in the morning (ok, not often); more usually, I write in the afternoon, or the evening. Sometimes, while I'm reading a book, a sentence will fall into my head, and I put the book down for a second – only a second – and then, two hours later realize I really have something here. Other times I have a sentence that goes nowhere.
A few things help: music, reading, knowing that I won't be interrupted for awhile. Trees. Little blue herons. Long baths with good books (words do seem to dance out of hot water.) A few things don't help: a cat putting his head on the keyboard at a bad moment (one cat is regrettably skilled at this).
He's giving my keyboard a few considering glances right now.