Recently I told you all about a short story that I penned that I was very proud of. In fact, I've come to the realization that out of all of the things that have ever come out of my brain, that story was my favorite.
Maybe not the most well written, or the most interesting, but my favorite nonetheless.
I've written in the past about my newfound love of short stories, and it dawned on me earlier today (as I was almost freezing to death, another entry for another day) that I might be better off entering into the world of short stories rather than a full fledged novel.
At this juncture, I find the idea of sitting down for a short period of time and just pouring myself into something visceral or heartfelt very alluring. And yes, I realize that those two feelings are entirely contradictory. Which is kind of my point.
It may never go anywhere. I may end up being the greatest short story writer of this generation. I don't know, I don't have a crystal ball.
And if I did, I would be constantly betting on horses. And I'd have the monetary means to simply publish my own rantings.
Ah, what a dream.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
On Lost Feelings
One of the greatest joys that I have in life is when I'm cleaning, or going through old things and I come across things that I have written in the past.
I wrote a short story back in like, May and I was really proud of it at the time. I wrote it by hand (which is pretty rare these days), and then planned to dictate it into a Word document later that day, or whenever I had a spare second.
I guess days turned to weeks and weeks to months, and I lost track of it. Then last Sunday, I found the story in a series of crumpled-up pieces of paper in my CD rack.The subject and story don't really matter at this time, but the pleasure that I took in reading, rewriting and then dictating it into that Word document was really refreshing.
I remembered what it was like to be creative, if even for a few minutes. It's a feeling that I've been severely missing for some time now. Now if I can harness it into something great (or even something decent), I'll finally be in a place that I want to be in.
I wrote a short story back in like, May and I was really proud of it at the time. I wrote it by hand (which is pretty rare these days), and then planned to dictate it into a Word document later that day, or whenever I had a spare second.
I guess days turned to weeks and weeks to months, and I lost track of it. Then last Sunday, I found the story in a series of crumpled-up pieces of paper in my CD rack.The subject and story don't really matter at this time, but the pleasure that I took in reading, rewriting and then dictating it into that Word document was really refreshing.
I remembered what it was like to be creative, if even for a few minutes. It's a feeling that I've been severely missing for some time now. Now if I can harness it into something great (or even something decent), I'll finally be in a place that I want to be in.
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