Writing is really hard work. I am learning this at an exponential rate, especially now that I am halfway through a 24-chapter, 384 page story and drowning in names and places and whatever-colour-Luc's-eyes-are-at-the-moment. Who did what? Why can't I put him in this event? Oh wait, he died six chapters ago. My bad.
When I used to sit in class and have to write a narrative in one and a half hours, I loved it. I think it was my favourite part of studying, writing english compositions. And I did think at the time, this is fantastic, I wish this could be my job. And now it is my job (kind of), and I love it, but it is so hard that sometimes I feel like I need to be physically restrained to stop me from tearing my eyes out and rewriting all the work I've done up to this point.
I have actually punched myself in the face on the bus, thinking about how awful everything I've written is. I have wondered if I would end up hating Damir and Kione like Doyle hated Sherlock Holmes. I have gone momentarily blind after writing for six hours at a time. I have shouted at my computer to shut up.
But I am starting to really like Luc, the stowaway who doesn't really know what he is doing, is excited about life and also terrified of it, doesn't want to participate but doesn't want to be left out. Unlike the other characters, who seem to have drastic mood swings depending on how I'm feeling when I write, Luc Harman has somehow survived as himself.
1 comment:
I like this post. I've always wanted to climb into a writer's head and find out how they think about their characters. How cool that you are experiencing this right now!
Post a Comment