when the world is mud-luscious

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I’ve not written in a while – so long, in fact, that WordPress contacted me to show me all that I’ve been missing. Haven’t felt as inspired to write here as I have to work on le novel, and creative writing headspace is at a premium when other obligations and desires get in the way.

It’s getting Springier out there and as I’ve said before, the changing of the seasons makes me melancholy. Not depressed, nostalgic. Lou and I just took a walk and every person we passed reminded me of someone I once knew. Every shift in the air and fragment of light brought me back a year or 12 or 20. I wonder what it’s about, this particular form of melancholia. Do I miss the past or just recall it? It’s as if the variations in temperature remind me that I haven’t always been mired in winter (or summer or whatever season is drawing to a close) – it reminds me that I’ve lived through this so many times before. My favorite is the beginning of fall.

I wish I could take every thought and idea, every fragment of experience and emotion that I’ve had, fictionalize them, and translate them into saleable prose. 

I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now.

That lyric just popped into my head. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind is the reason why. Maybe I first heard the song on a day that looked like today. Today – right now – is a hazy shade of pale blue. Pretty, smoky, soft-edged. 

My friend KJ has started her blog and has asked me for feedback, which I will happily give. What I’ve read thus far is an extension of her wonderful, restless, and brilliant mind. “Write what you know” is a common refrain among writing instructors, and this she does beautifully. Hers is a mind that grows in leaps and bounds and one whose linear thoughts come with footnotes and addenda. Keep going, KJ – you’re off to a great start.

I think I’ll start writing in this thing again. 

Let me see what spring is like

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It’s a lovely moon out there tonight, out there in the world, a perfect sliver of a fingernail shining light on the opacity that covers the rest. It’s the kind of moon that teaches you about its phases. It’s also really fucking cold and while I don’t generally like to complain about the weather I look forward to spring. To lighter skies and moods. To actually feeling like venturing out of my neighborhood. 

I have tremendous writer’s block at present. I feel like I have nothing to say that hasn’t been said so many times before, that I don’t know how to craft a story. I’m good with dialogue and creating characters and situations, but moving my characters past their situations and into something resembling plot is another matter. I’ve just signed up for two more writing classes – advanced novel, with the same instructor I’m currently working with, who, by the way, is fabulous, and, continuing with this run-on sentence, a short story workshop, short story being a craft I’ve not studied and would love to learn, in part because I’d love to learn how to make short films (and long ones). 

I have a hard time finishing what I’ve st

I think I’ve said this before (to you, my legions of readers) – the upshot of my novel writing workshop is that we’re to finish a draft, no matter how terrible it is. We’re to give ourselves permission to write an awful first draft. I think this is the problem – I think I’ve not given myself that permission and so the fact that it’s not really working in its current form (“it” being my book) is what’s tripping me up. Maybe this isn’t a book that’s supposed to see the light of day when all is said and done – I’m realizing that that’s fine. I don’t write because I want to be published, really, I write because I want to write well. So perhaps what I need to do is just write this effing thing, put it away, and move on to greatness. Why did I say “perhaps”? – that’s exactly what I need to do. I also need to finish reading the books that I’m reading about writing screenplays (as the principles apply to prose as well). It’s all about story story story which is my problem problem problem – because one can’t make a movie or book out of “This character is in this situation and acts like this because this is what happened to them in the past the end.” Something has to happen. My poor characters must be bored to tears. 

Okay … time to write something besides this.