Balancing scales
Sep. 21st, 2010 10:16 am![[personal profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
plumgirlI am a person who dissects things infinitely until I have grounded down experiences into ideas and theories . I like to say that I have some kind of weird balancing scale when it comes to my own life, and I like to add and subtract thoughts/possible truths to the pile to see if one such thought/idea/revelation might suddenly tip the scale that I currently am using, forcing me to take a different direction.
This past weekend was one of those odd experiences that you sometimes have to see as part of a larger picture. So since then, I've been quietly turning over this piece of the puzzle in my head, and trying to understand where this fits in in terms of the greater context.
Added to that are the thoughtful letters/notes coming to me these past few weeks from persons who have picked up stories from my old days of writing fanfiction. It keeps boggling my mind that seven years later, I'm still getting readers and notes. It's the content of these notes that really strike me. And yet, I find these notes to be somewhat vexing. I keep thinking that maybe these are meant to be small little reminders of a neglected craft that doesn't want to go down quietly.
In looking at my public journal entries from 2009 (specifically this one and earlier this year, I see I have been circling around/dancing around this problem of living a creative life and feeling as I'm not quite where I should be.
I think you guys have been right all along, and I should make a choice now. I need to go back to being a writer who illustrates, rather than illustrator who writes. Fundamentally , my own pictures have no meaning to people without the underlying stories.
That said, I started to pick up on story last night. Sitting in bed with my netbook, I felt lost. At the peak of my writing many years ago, I could write 1-3 pages a night. Last night it began with only a few paragraphs. Rereading the beginning I had written, I came to realize that it would take time to ramp back up and find that same voice (slightly sardonic, chilly, and dreamy). Equally frustrating was trying to take the picture in my head and put it into words. It used to be seamless -- translating that 'movie scene' in my head to paper. It's bumpy at the moment.
I also came to realize this weekend that much of what I was saying to a friend was advice I should also be taking for myself. I decided yesterday to also consider doing writing/illustration like the webcomic creators do. I realize though it won't be a comic, but more like the installment writing one used to see in magazines.
I think the time and internet has caught up to help me do what I need to do for now... I just now need to figure out HOW and WHAT to do in terms of setting up a platform and then start my experimenting :) . To be honest, I'm kind of afraid of writing out in the open, because I remain concerned about the inferences people will draw about me the writer or me the artist, but I think I've decided that ultimately I'm going to play with all of you, friends and strangers, and just be an impossible mix of romantic and WEIRD.
This past weekend was one of those odd experiences that you sometimes have to see as part of a larger picture. So since then, I've been quietly turning over this piece of the puzzle in my head, and trying to understand where this fits in in terms of the greater context.
Added to that are the thoughtful letters/notes coming to me these past few weeks from persons who have picked up stories from my old days of writing fanfiction. It keeps boggling my mind that seven years later, I'm still getting readers and notes. It's the content of these notes that really strike me. And yet, I find these notes to be somewhat vexing. I keep thinking that maybe these are meant to be small little reminders of a neglected craft that doesn't want to go down quietly.
In looking at my public journal entries from 2009 (specifically this one and earlier this year, I see I have been circling around/dancing around this problem of living a creative life and feeling as I'm not quite where I should be.
I think you guys have been right all along, and I should make a choice now. I need to go back to being a writer who illustrates, rather than illustrator who writes. Fundamentally , my own pictures have no meaning to people without the underlying stories.
That said, I started to pick up on story last night. Sitting in bed with my netbook, I felt lost. At the peak of my writing many years ago, I could write 1-3 pages a night. Last night it began with only a few paragraphs. Rereading the beginning I had written, I came to realize that it would take time to ramp back up and find that same voice (slightly sardonic, chilly, and dreamy). Equally frustrating was trying to take the picture in my head and put it into words. It used to be seamless -- translating that 'movie scene' in my head to paper. It's bumpy at the moment.
I also came to realize this weekend that much of what I was saying to a friend was advice I should also be taking for myself. I decided yesterday to also consider doing writing/illustration like the webcomic creators do. I realize though it won't be a comic, but more like the installment writing one used to see in magazines.
I think the time and internet has caught up to help me do what I need to do for now... I just now need to figure out HOW and WHAT to do in terms of setting up a platform and then start my experimenting :) . To be honest, I'm kind of afraid of writing out in the open, because I remain concerned about the inferences people will draw about me the writer or me the artist, but I think I've decided that ultimately I'm going to play with all of you, friends and strangers, and just be an impossible mix of romantic and WEIRD.