Giddy Writer at Play

Write DangerouslyI’ve just started a new writing project, and I’m still at that stage where I’m giggling, scribbling, spacing out, and completely ignoring Write What You Know in favor of wallowing in that marvelous honeymoon period where you conveniently  forget that you were going to outline this time, because you’re so high on channeling/creating people who aren’t you that you let them do whatever they want, even if they take all the vowels out of their names and become experts in teuthology and also declare descendancy from Attila the Hun’s fifth concubine—but, oddly enough, not him—for Important Reasons of Character Motivation that you’re sure you’ll work out later and end up yanking scenes and hair over down the road.*

This happens because you’re sleep-deprived and over-caffeinated** and delusional in that special way unpublished writers with decent day jobs are allowed to be, but mostly so relieved that you can actually pry your mental fingers from let go of the previous project—which you have edited and obsessed over and re-edited until you had actual visions of pigeons in hamster wheels before you declared it done and kicked it sent it out into the world—to work on a new one.

Or maybe that’s just me.

But I really am enjoying myself, and I’m planning on indulging in my whimsical delusions—and run-on sentences, thank you—until tomorrow, when I will dump Atilla, add some surname vowels, and do some actual plotting.***

I may keep the teuthology, though, ’cause Watson thinks I should write funny stuff on purpose this time^ and I personally find squid hilarious.

Or maybe that’s just me, too?

How do you start writing?

_____________________

*Not literally, except for the outline-ignoring and scene and hair yanking.  That’s all SOP.

**Bought a French Press this weekend so my husband won’t have to worry about my hazelnut-vanilla-Highland Grogg-mocha-donut flavored stuff cutting the tongue-dissolving acidity of his own preferred brand of coffee.  I’m still working out how much of my mellower stuff to use for two cups in the morning—the instruction recommendations are based on a 4oz cup of coffee, which is just crazy talk.

***Metaphorically. Except for the plotting.  Probably.

^She’s truly the wind beneath my wings, that woman.

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16 thoughts on “Giddy Writer at Play

  1. Since I’m a PB guy, I tend to plan out the entire story in my head before putting anything in black and white. For my YA zombie thing, I’ve been doing things pretty much the same way; I have a plan, just not a formal one. So far so good.

    Oh, and you’re right; squids are funny. But cuttlefish are funnier.

  2. As someone who writes poetry, I tend to work from scribbles, post it notes, words, phrases, drawings, :), spam filters…anything that might spark a creative moment. I outline other kinds of writing (work stuff), and it is very helpful. That being said, I don’t think I could ever outline and write an epic poem though, I don’t think my attention span could handle it….squirrel.

    • I outline works stuff, too–non-fiction has it’s own natural structure, doesn’t it?

      The idea of outlining a poem seems odd to me—I tend to assume they’re instantaneously formed out of pure, raw inspiration in the minds of you poet-types—but it’s also difficult to imagine that Dante Alighieri, Chaucer, and Alexander Pope were just winging it . . . Hmmm.

      Just take that epic a stanza at a time, John—I believe in you!

  3. The hope that this gives me…you have no idea. I dream, DREAM of the day when I am done and put it to rest. The idea of working on something new, entirely new, is absolutely…I can’t even think of the word. Freeing comes close. I feel like I’ve been trapped so long with these characters I can’t breathe. I’m so tired of fixing it and rewriting and rewriting and…well, I don’t have to tell you.
    Sing it, sister.

    • It’s amazing, Lyra . . . Who knew the best reward for finishing a book was starting another one?

      I love PIgeons, but we need to take a break from our relationship for a while . . .

  4. I tend to spew a sort of literary vomitus, and then let it stew in it’s juices for a while before going back and trying to wrest it into submission. Then I decide it’s all drivel and purge it from being. No wonder I haven’t written anything of consequence.

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