This is just part... since I'm awaiting, NaNoWriMo to start... more information at http://www.nanowrimo.com
This is part of the narrative from the main character... needs editing, lots of editing!
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You know those days where, you just ignore calls, texts, facebook messages, instant messages and if you can, someone at your door? I've been in one of those moods lately where all I do is go to work and come home to eat some food. The biggest thing I did this week was get a chai latte w/soy as I was grocery shopping. Also, it has not been just a day. More accurately, about a week it's been. My phone is ringing right now, I can hear it from underneath something in the room. It's been so long I can't quite remember where I left it sit. There can be a million and one reasons I decided to lock myself up, but none of them were to write. None of that has gotten done this week, I've watched more old Nickelodeon cartoons this week. Which was a lot of ''Angry Beavers.'
'
Part of me wishes I was locking myself up to write in this long extended period. A writer Chuck Palahniuk wrote in his book ''Stranger than Fiction'' that a writer goes between being very outgoing and public to just not. Going between loneliness of writing, making the work all you know. Until you are finished and go right back outside again to meet more people, finding more stories to form into something. I love this, it just was never me. I had to be in it and around people while I wrote. It's not like I would forget or something, it was more of a journal. Later on I form a song or poem, from time to time a short story. Everyone around gave the right push or right idea to get the ''juices'' flowing in the proper direction.
Which brings my thoughts to another writer I love. I find some strange connection between that idea of locking yourself into how John Green discusses how writing for him can losing himself in nostalgia. He brings up a quote by Emily Dickinson, "Success is counted sweetest/ by those who ne'er succeed." It was during a time he was visiting his ole stomping grounds at his boarding school, he even wrote about it in ''Looking for Alaska.'' This smoking hole everyone used to smoke at, it was passed down to the different students along the way. When he arrived he found no cigarette butts there, so first thinking, ''maybe no one smokes anymore, that would be great.'' A thought came in of, 'What if no one remembers this place. Perhaps the spot that was supposed to be a legacy is gone to be left and never remembered.' He looked up to see that Dickinson quote ''graffiti'' on the wall from a few years previous to his visit. Giving him hope and losing himself in thinking this place is not lost. It will be remembered. The legacy of his and who he knew will be remembered for years to come. As if that moment will be shared like liturgy is shared throughout time. The past, future and present will be enjoying the glory of the smoking hole together into infinity. Going far, but it's what we hope for in our pursuits to leave something behind. In Greens' height of nostalgia, gets stung by a bee. He relates this later on to writing. Most of his moments are real, like Palahniuks' stuff some basis to it is realistic to begin with. Green discusses how when he writes he cannot be taken out of his stories by a bee sting and that his past can be remembered in that way. That perhaps being young is sweetest from those who are no longer young. Even in it's despair and pain, it's different in the eyes of those grown. Writing about it is the only thing that keeps it real... "Youth is counted sweetest by those who are no longer young.", Green. No broken glass on the ground I cut my foot on when swimming in the river with my friends.
Perhaps that's what these weeks are for, a reset in nostalgia... (where ever I feel like going with that... leave it for later.)
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