|yeah, maybe we can do something next tuesday...|
i used to think that way about creative work, until i was in my thirties and, like a lot of things i used to believe, it struck me as a little bit pathetic. seriously, it sounds like the advice you give someone who has a crush on a person with whom they patently have no chance at all. "just be yourself and if it's meant to be, it'll happen". i am not a patient person as a rule and therefore, i decided that i would do whatever i could to make those creative epiphanies happen.
i made myself start writing down all the ideas that i have. [well, maybe not all, but some of the ideas i have are really, really bad.]
i organised all of my writing files so that they are in logic order and not just a bunch of files called "random idea june 2011-1" sitting in a folder called "writing". that means that when i remember that six months ago, i'd had this awesome idea for an opening for something and then decided to "come back to it later", i can actually find it on the off chance that i do want to come back to it later.
i try to keep myself in the habit of writing. i even started a blog to help me do this. [of course, the problem i wasn't counting on is that writing said blog has become a sort of a creative pursuit unto itself.
|teh riters blok. i haz it.|
still, there are times when it just seems like no matter what i do, i am just not good enough for that damn muse to pay me a visit and treat me like i'm special. if this were a relationship with another person, i'd move on, but this is a critical component of who i am. i can't just shrug it off the way i would the loss of another person.
i'm stuck at the moment with a peculiar sort of problem, in that everything that i want to work on, all the big ideas i have at the moment are, well, big. they're not the kind of thing i can just bang out in a single night's work or two, but projects that require careful thought and planning. like the ongoing saga of "a definable moment in time", or like the thing i thought of after i had this dream about being a young boy who discovers a sort of portal to a strange utopian but fascistic world and starts taking his family over there and then realises that it's really hard to either survive or get back. [i'm serious, it's a fantastic idea in my head. i even drew pictures of it, which was both a creative way for me to work on an idea and a reminder that i can't draw for shit.] or the second screenplay i've been working on, where everything is already worked out, but which i hate working on because the formatting requirements for screenplays are probably why hollywood writers commit suicide. [and yes, i know that i could get software to do it for me, but i haven't yet reached that point where i'm willing to fork over a few hundred dollars for peace of mind. [i have it in my head that i'm going to change the system and reinvent how screenplays are formatted. that'll be how history remembers me. the screenplay formatting chick.]
so now it's like the muse has conceded that we are in a long term relationship and that we have a future together, but doesn't want to bother with any of the day to day stuff. that's my job.
i suppose that if i really want that relationship to work, i should just focus on it.
|not the muse calliope|
as in, not swinging through the vines of the internet like tarzan waiting to find something that amuses me. [although if i hadn't, i wouldn't have found out about beyoncé the giant chicken, which would be a sad.]
as in, not assuming that writing on the blog is going to put me in a frame of mind to write quality fiction just because the two activities happen to look the same on the surface.
oh, yeah. i guess i have to go now...