Tuesday, December 14, 2010

The Grim Reaper

I'm having a hard time believing in my writing right now. Not with believing I can write, but the validity of what I do write (or have written maybe is more accurate these days). It REALLY bothers me that the story Patty was working on was cut off in the middle as if the characters just evaporated. It really bothers me that everything she knew and imagined and thought about is gone. Okay, so maybe it's not exactly 'gone', but I kinda feel like it is. Even when I can manage to believe in an afterlife of some shape, I can't believe fiction would go along.

It doesn't feel as if it's my own writing I'm troubled about . . .but if everything feels trite and pointless, maybe it is?

I wrote about 1000 words of fiction on Saturday morning, but it was total freewriting and even while I was writing, I had to work hard to ignore the voice that kept saying "what's the point, it's a stupid alternative romance with no market and no message and no plot."

The editor maybe looks a bit like the grim reaper now, sitting off to the side, watching my efforts in amusement, shaking his head at my foolishness. I guess my snowflakes must really make him laugh.

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