Some Moebius for your Wednesday night.
Sooooo…the Ho makes this stew, right? Like on the regular. It’s a white-bean stew, I think, technically speaking…but it’s turned into something much more. She puts in carrots, kale, spicy sausage and chorizo, potatoes…anyway. Tonight she made a new one and it’s OUT OF CONTROL.
Each stew is slightly different because she fiddles slightly with the ingredients or just eyeballs stuff…well this one is all about the broth. It’s insane. Spicy. Savory. Fucking delicious.
Today could have gone off the rails a few times, but it didn’t. I got everything done I needed to. Writing. Remilon editing. Netflix work. Granted, I am writing this entry a full hour later than usual, but it was worth it. I’ve earned my day off tomorrow.
“Off” will be used in the relative sense, since I still plan to do a good three hours or so of work. I’m also getting a haircut. Huzzah.
Got a call today from a friend of mine who sounds like he’s in the throes of writing what I like to call “the shit pile of a first draft.” I didn’t actually get to talk to him about it. When I’d planned to during meal break times, the Ho and I actually had to work together on audition scenes. But it’s true!
A first draft is so many things all at once. On the one hand, it is the *purest* form of creation, at least for me. It just pours out. It feels like living in the world I’m creating moment to moment, just like the characters are. That’s magical. On the other hand, it’s excruciating and often paralyzing when you know what you’ve written is bullshit. It feels like digging a hole and creating this mountain of dirt behind me that I know I’m going to just have to shovel right back into the whole it came from before I’m done. Every word I write is a word that will have to be fixed eventually. It’s a very intense, conflict-prone atmosphere that first drafts create.
But what I’ve found thus far is that all of that angst really doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is finishing. Because only then is it possible to go back and figure out what really needs to be fixed, and what I thought was a giant pile of steaming poop but is really quite good. Just finish, baby. Then worry about turning it into something “good.” And even then…I don’t have a ton of experience yet in the rewriting department, but I will soon…and my gut tells me that even THEN, to worry about something being “good” is to paralyze one’s self and/or limit them. I’m going to focus instead simply on making sure my story and characters are clear. That’s it. Clear out the clutter and the confusion, and just make sure the story I want to be told is reading in my book.
Beyond that, it’s for others to decide if it’s “good” or “bad.” I can’t be bothered with such ideas or judgements. See, my only job is to absolutely love and adore my story and then make sure it’s actually being told. That’s it. That’s my job, yo. At least with novel writing, and that’s what appeals to me; a novel is a finished product. It’s complete; the final form. I get to see that from beginning to end all by myself.
I love what I’m doing, guys. It’s hard work, but I’m on the right track because I love doing it.
Good night 😉