Pages

Friday, April 18, 2014

(LiLi) Ask Not What You Can do for Your Story...

       As I sat down to write the other day I began to suffer from extreme writer's block (*ugh*). Why? Because as I sat there, only one question came to mind:

       What do I want the character(s) to do next????

       But then-BAM!- it hit me! Most great authors devote lots of time on deciding what happens next in their stories, right? WRONG. Well, sort of...
      
       Writer's block-I have discovered-is when an author becomes ignorant to their character's "feelings." The author is too busy trying to decide what happens next to even listen to what the characters want to do. Now, I know you're probably thinking "This girl is Cray-ZY! Characters are NOT real people!!!!" I know, I know, but hear me out...
      
       I'm not saying they are, but if you love them enough, they are kind of like your imaginary friends. And you don't thoroughly think out what your imaginary friend is going to do, they just do it!

1 comment:

  1. Writer's Block

    from the album "John Wayne"

    Words & Music by Terry Taylor
    ©1998 Twitchen Vibes (BMI)
    I paint a thousand pictures here
    on the inside of my skull
    Sometimes I'll crack it open
    though my instruments are dull

    I focus in, then out of view
    when the blows land on my chin
    A wild river's seeping slowly
    through the cracks in my skin

    I've got a hunger for sweet admiration
    but can't exchange it for my occupation
    as the
    fallen cleric
    chief of sinners
    poor of spirit

    Take all the mud and glory in
    the blood that swells my hand
    shake it out with delirium tremors
    and guide my palsy pen

    Who's impressed enough to follow me?
    Please consider now the source
    Count my golden vanities
    in the fire of remorse

    I've made an art of clever demonstrations
    but can't exchange it for my occupation
    as the
    fallen cleric
    chief of sinners
    poor of spirit

    I paint a thousand pictures here
    on the inside of my skull
    Come on, crack it open, kill me
    burn the bridges, break the walls

    I've got a hunger for sweet validation
    but can't exchange it for my old vocation
    as the
    fallen cleric
    chief of sinners
    poor of spirit

    ReplyDelete