mslulu: (Lone Penguin)
Sure enough, when I haven't got the time to sit and write, a new idea forms. Just a single thought. One line, bouncing around in my head, teasing me, daring me to follow it and see where it leads. I don't have the time to pursue it fully right now, but it seems to be headed down a path that I haven't taken before, leading away from my usual styles and themes.

Hmm. Maybe I can convince it to hang out until NaNoWriMo when, time or not, I'll need to be chasing an idea until I find the story in it anyway.
mslulu: (Baby Daniel)
My head's interfering with concentration on the task at hand again. But at least there's a relatively legitimate reason.

There's a new story poking through in my brain, trying to take form enough to earn the right to be put on paper. This is never a bad thing. It's been some years since I've really had a new idea. But on the other hand, I've spent the last 3 months working on trying to get an old story put together enough to finish. If I let the new one distract me enough, I could find myself abandoning what has been my primary project for gods know how long.

To make matters worse, I watched Labyrinth again last night, which served as the inspiration for another of my older projects. Now that idea's awake again, poking at me, demanding my attention, wanting to be refined, rewritten, and finished.

Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap.

So, I don't know if I should ignore the new ideas and concentrate my attention on the project at hand, which is currently somewhere around the 40,000 word point and still going strong, or if I should try to split my attention between the two or three of them and try to get the new one developed and clean up and revive the old one while still plugging away at the other.

I need to buy some new discipline. The stuff I have just isn't enough to handle this kind of noise.
mslulu: (Tattoo)
John Hughes lied to me. How many other children of the eighties out there spent their teen years believing in the Gospel of Hughes? And how many felt betrayed when graduation came and the promised love had never materialized?

I started my high school career with Sixteen Candles. I knew that the guy I had the secret crush on would eventually realize I was there; I just had to go to the right dance to start the wheels in motion.

By sophomore year, it was The Breakfast Club. I was the loner, the outsider, the freak. But it was okay, because the cute jock was going to kiss me one day and tell me I was pretty.

Junior year was all about Pretty in Pink. I was living alone with my dad then, and the Great and Powerful Hughes promised me that if I pinched pennies and made my own clothes, Andrew McCarthy would soon start stalking me.

And finally, Senior year brought Some Kind of Wonderful and it's assurances that my best friend would see the light and realize that he actually loved me and not the pretty girl he was chasing all year.

But, alas, the real world is nothing like Shermer, Illinois. I never had that great high school romance. The words of Hughes were just empty promises.

But somewhere along the way, lost in these wonderful fictions, my own "what-if" button got pushed. My imagination was tickled and I, for the first time, put pencil to paper and began to write. My first attempts were dreadful, unoriginal, Hughes-like tales of love and sex amongst foul-mouthed high-school students. But I never stopped. I'm still writing seventeen years later. Admittedly, a lot of what fills the box of notebooks and loose-leaf paper in my closet is pure, derivative crap, but I know there are at least a few original, creative, well written ideas in there, too. I love that I can sit down and create people and places and situations and give them life with just a pen.

And I've got John Hughes to thank for that.
mslulu: (Default)
As some of you may have noticed, I'm writing. I've got a new idea and I'm attempting to make something of it. As some of you may not know, I've been writing for 16 years and have maybe 3 completed projects to show for it, and I'm very protective of my work. Few people have actually been allowed the privilege of reading my fiction.

What does that leave me with? Boxes full of incomplete stories that nobody will ever see but me.

So, I'm trying something new with the first new idea that I've had in years and am actually kind of excited about. I'm putting it out there as it happens, for my friends to see. I welcome comments, criticisms (be gentle... I'm tender), suggestions, encouragement (many thanks to Kathy who greeted me at work with "more story more story"). If something doesn't work for you, tell me why. If you like what you're reading, I'd love to hear it. Suggestions/criticism may not appear to be taken, but I tend to bounce them around and they often lead to other ideas. (for example, the dragon has been named. i didn't use any of the names offered, but because of them, i thought of the name i did use, and there will be other dragons to name, so i may still need that list in the future.)

I am locking the entries from here on out, so you have to be logged in as one of my friends to read it. (Protective measure... I've had my sociology thesis plagiarized - amazing what people will steal.)

Oh and if anyone has an idea for a working title so my headings can be something more interesting than #1, #2, etc... throw it at me. Kathy, I'm already counting that you've suggested Alderon, to save you the trouble.

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