I talk to myself sometimes.
Okay, that's a lie.
I talk to myself a lot.
I also talk to inanimate objects.
They haven't talked back. Yet. I'm told this is a good thing.
Anyway.
I don't usually hold super long conversations with myself. (Because I do answer when I talk to myself.) But sometimes it is necessary to talk something out, and if no one else is around, my crazy self is it.
Many of these conversations actually take place between the characters I've stored in my head. I think I've mentioned once or twice that I'm working on several books (not making much progress), and when I have an idea for a new character, I have to find their voice, so he or she usually ends up having conversations with all of the other characters in my head. Not all of them are from the same book, but that's almost better, because it raises interesting questions. (For example, would the owner of the space station in 2430 know how to get along with the Union spy from 1864? They actually have a lot more in common than they thought.)
I do have a point to all of this. Granted, I forgot what it was around line 7, but I've found the plot again, so here we go.
One of the questions I find my characters asking each other is this: what do we do now?
It is a legitimate question when writing because you constantly have to be thinking about how to move the plot forward. All too often, I find that I've written myself into a corner - according to the rules of the world I've created, there is no way out of their current predicament. (I say according to the rules because having a deus ex machina every time is lousy writing. You might be allowed one or two small ones per series, but anything larger and your readers start crying foul.)
Often this situation requires you to start over or to abandon the really cool idea you had for one that is even better. Sometimes, though, you can surprise yourself with a really creative solution that is both credible and clever. These are the books I like to read - I want to be taken somewhere I didn't expect, and I don't want it to be obvious how I arrived there. I want there to be clues that I pick up on a second reading, and I don't want the ending to come out of left field. (I will never forgive the writers of Dear John for their ending. Never.)
I think I lost the plot again.
That happens a lot, too.
Oh well.
No, wait. Here we go.
That question up there - what do we do now? I ask myself that a lot.
I like new things. I like experimenting and trying new stuff and visiting new places.
This fact about me is not very well known, mostly because I spend 75% of my time trying to be a hermit. Sometimes I succeed a little too well.
But I do like new things. I like breaking up the routine every so often (but I like the routine, too, because it's nice to come back to), and if I don't have anything new coming up, I become frustrated. Apathetic. Just pathetic.
I'm going to compare myself to Anthony DiNozzo Jr. again. His time limit for jobs (until he found Gibbs - or Gibbs found him) was two years. Mine has been just shy of that (though, granted, I haven't had many (I'm only 26!)).
And now that I'm breaking that unofficially self-imposed rule by staying on with OMS - I feel stagnant. Stuck. Without a life.
Okay, it's not that bad.
Because I love my job.
Really.
I just feel...
Lonely.
This is not news to anyone.
Okay, that's a lie.
I talk to myself a lot.
I also talk to inanimate objects.
They haven't talked back. Yet. I'm told this is a good thing.
Anyway.
I don't usually hold super long conversations with myself. (Because I do answer when I talk to myself.) But sometimes it is necessary to talk something out, and if no one else is around, my crazy self is it.
Many of these conversations actually take place between the characters I've stored in my head. I think I've mentioned once or twice that I'm working on several books (not making much progress), and when I have an idea for a new character, I have to find their voice, so he or she usually ends up having conversations with all of the other characters in my head. Not all of them are from the same book, but that's almost better, because it raises interesting questions. (For example, would the owner of the space station in 2430 know how to get along with the Union spy from 1864? They actually have a lot more in common than they thought.)
I do have a point to all of this. Granted, I forgot what it was around line 7, but I've found the plot again, so here we go.
One of the questions I find my characters asking each other is this: what do we do now?
It is a legitimate question when writing because you constantly have to be thinking about how to move the plot forward. All too often, I find that I've written myself into a corner - according to the rules of the world I've created, there is no way out of their current predicament. (I say according to the rules because having a deus ex machina every time is lousy writing. You might be allowed one or two small ones per series, but anything larger and your readers start crying foul.)
Often this situation requires you to start over or to abandon the really cool idea you had for one that is even better. Sometimes, though, you can surprise yourself with a really creative solution that is both credible and clever. These are the books I like to read - I want to be taken somewhere I didn't expect, and I don't want it to be obvious how I arrived there. I want there to be clues that I pick up on a second reading, and I don't want the ending to come out of left field. (I will never forgive the writers of Dear John for their ending. Never.)
I think I lost the plot again.
That happens a lot, too.
Oh well.
No, wait. Here we go.
That question up there - what do we do now? I ask myself that a lot.
I like new things. I like experimenting and trying new stuff and visiting new places.
This fact about me is not very well known, mostly because I spend 75% of my time trying to be a hermit. Sometimes I succeed a little too well.
But I do like new things. I like breaking up the routine every so often (but I like the routine, too, because it's nice to come back to), and if I don't have anything new coming up, I become frustrated. Apathetic. Just pathetic.
I'm going to compare myself to Anthony DiNozzo Jr. again. His time limit for jobs (until he found Gibbs - or Gibbs found him) was two years. Mine has been just shy of that (though, granted, I haven't had many (I'm only 26!)).
And now that I'm breaking that unofficially self-imposed rule by staying on with OMS - I feel stagnant. Stuck. Without a life.
Okay, it's not that bad.
Because I love my job.
Really.
I just feel...
Lonely.
This is not news to anyone.
Everyone struggles with loneliness in life. I know that I have struggled with it a time or two. I'm a people person so for me that's how I gain affirmation--through words. Isn't that lame? Yet, on the other hand I too have to have my days of being a hermit. Let me just say, I prefer to be around people rather than being a hermit.
ReplyDeleteYou're welcome over to my apartment any time and should drop by more than you do! I love company and I would enjoy a good conversation about Dear John...just saying I have a different opinion. I actually consider the ending "brilliant". :] I know you'll hate me for that...and my lack of Star Wars knowledge...oh well. But seriously...come over!
I'd like to hear more about your characters, especially since you decided today to name your son Grant Ulysses. We need to have more Civil War conversations and then I can rant to you about my love for the Revolutionary War. :] Love you, girl!