Again with deadlines.
Again with so much distraction. I once believed that living in the forest would afford me the time and solace with which to write.
I've come to the clear and honest revelation (as if I never knew... denial rocks) -- writing equals discipline. Most people say "writing is a discipline." And that would encompass the idea, but not bring the two notions close enough for my money. The two words beg to be layered -- one upon another, like a sheet of yellow tissue paper and a sheet of blue tissue paper creating the color green. Oh, and then slap a little Modge Podge on that puppy and you've got a... a... um... creation! Whatever.
I have to write the next chapter in my book today. Something exciting and dangerous and FUNNY must occur. Writing comedy is so not funny. Time and again it feels forced and contrived and "how the heck will anyone laugh?" Mostly the critiques say "I laughed here at work" or "I've been laughing since I started reading." But I find that so hard to believe. For me, it's just not funny after I write it. Suppose that's a normal reaction? I mean, having dreamed it, considered it in so many angles, then brainstorming, drafting, and writing -- zaps the fun right out of the damned thing, eh? Oh well.
If I am moaning here... I'm not writing.
Onward and upward.
But .... dear friends... comedy hints would HELP!
powered by performancing firefox
powered by performancing firefox
powered by performancing firefox
powered by performancing firefox
No comments:
Post a Comment