The Joy Of Writing, or, I Hate Writing. Take your pick.

Writing is awesome.

I get to make up a story, and spin it, throw it against the wall, shake it out and see who falls, see who stays. I’ve spent what feels like 6 months arranging and re-arranging this doll house and now I’m building the full-sized home. It’s not that hard. It’s going pretty good.

And I’m lucky as hell I’ve got the time off to sit at home and focus on this. (Well, not lucky as much as hurting from spinal surgery but whatever, potato, tomato.)

This stuff is exciting. My main characters are becoming their own people, doing things while I just kind of watch and take notes. Until they bore me, and then I throw a lit flare at the group to see what happens. It’s awesome.

Two days ago, I wrote 5,000 words. It was probably more than that… you know that thing where you write a whole lot, then look at it and go, naaah, that sucked, and you delete it, and then go back to writing? Yeah. So let’s stay I wrote 6,000 words but only kept 5,000.

It was so exciting! And then I just kind of shut down. Kind of like that guy in Moby Dick who just sits there while the wind dies down and kind of goes into a trance? Or does he do that? Is that in the book? If not, it’s a great idea and I’m going to put it in my book.

So yesterday, I wrote jack squat. Zero. A bird egg. A golf ball. A blank page. You’d think, as redundant as I am, I could have at least squeezed out 1,000 words describing a field of grass. Nah.

Instead I watched two movies. Two very old movies.

Fritz Lang’s Scarlet Street starring Edward G Robinson and the beautiful Joan Bennet:

And another one – can’t remember the title. A movie about a newspaper publisher who kills his wife and everybody around him is trying to solve the crime. Very good suspense, very so-so writing. But hell who am I to judge?

It was a great day of nothing. Today I’m back to writing. How about some updates?

– The old guy is crazy. He’s seeing a ghost, but he hated the lady in life, and isn’t really afraid of her in death. There’s nothing like an unscary ghost. I’m not sure if she’ll stay in the book, but it’s making for some fun dialog.

– The main character’s dad doesn’t know HIS dad is a killer, and doesn’t know his DAUGHTER suspects his dad of being a killer. The three of them at dinner, him talking stuff while the other two play verbal judo? That’s also fun.

I gotta go back to writing. But I wanted to update the blog. When my book wins every award ever created for literature and story telling, they’ll want to see how a master really does it. And then they’ll come read my blog for a good laugh instead.