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Wednesday, June 23, 2004So, let’s try this again. I quit blogging because my posts haven’t been coming through...so this time, I’m going to write the darn post in something I can *save*. No were was I? I’ve been writing, heavily, these past few days, all by hand. I think that my brain or my muse or something requires that I start a book by hand, because it seems to keep me on track. If I start typing directly into the computer, I end up with a printout an inch thick that feels like it’s bloated and all over the place. (Er. Water’s Edge. Though after I did an...argh! Outline, I thought that part of the problem was that there was so much I wanted to accomplish in the book, that maybe...maybe...it‘s a duology, rather than a single title. Need to maunder over it a bit.) I think this habit comes from back when I began writing at 13. I wrote during classes...especially math (Hey, 2+2=5 is all the math *I* need...anyway, God made calculators for a reason.) scribbling away on sheets of paper (pink...one of my first stories was written on pink paper....) or in notebooks. I especially loved those tablets they gave you at the beginning of every school year...the paper felt so good to write on. Do you remember them? Ours had eagles clutching a scroll that had places for your name, etc. on it. There was a quote, too, “Man needs learning to make something of himself?” I dunno. Any way, I remember, I used to get an extra one half way through the year from one teacher, by being honest with her about why I wanted it. Those were the *best*. And I’d write in the lunch line, during lunch, at recess, in study hall, after tests...whenever I could. My first story was about a ballet dancer who was being stalked, and her romance with the guy who may or may not be the stalker. (Hmmm...Christopher Pike influence, there...) I rolled it up into a scroll (a *pink* scroll) and handed it off to barb, who came running up to me on the bus to tell me how much she loved my story. “I was grinning from ear to ear, I was so happy!” she said. And that, I think, is why I write. Because of that moment. I used to write scripts for her, and for another girl, Francie. They were stories of meetings with Rock Stars (I believe that I wrote about the New Kids on the Block for Francie...now, that’s friendship!) and actors...romantic silly stories, parodies of fairy tales starring Bono and The edge with members of INXS thrown in for me. So, I guess, once upon a time, I did write fan fiction. Barb wrote me one, once, too...and that story is one of the most precious things I own. I also wrote a story when i was nine, got about ten pages into it, and got bored. It was about twins. One of them was evil. That's all I remeber...surprised I remeber that much. When I read Barbara Hamlby's Dragonsbane, my stories became more fantasy oriented. I loved magic, and realized the abiding interest I’d always had for such things could be used to make it. And that long story is why, I think, I have to write by hand first. All of my books were at least partially started by hand. balancing Act’s first draft was all by hand, Blue Moon was written in chunks on the computer and off...it’s how I developed, and how I’ll always be. Permalink Cindy scribed this at 7:56 PM 0 comments |