Wednesday, November 06, 2002

I'm really falling behind on that nanowrimo thing. And it is had to accept how sucky one's novel is...I like to blame it on the fact I don't edit, etc. But

The problem is since it is a coming-of-age novel (a bildungsroman for the more pretentious of us...who I can't pretend to be since I'm not quite sure how to spell bildungsroman) it turns out sounding exactly like a teenager's blog. I suppose I should be happy for the authenticity of this. The redundancy and flat writing of the overly self-absorbed.

Way to cure this: Move to the third person. Irony factor: In my journals as a teenager I very often wrote about things in the third person. Now I am trying to write a novel based largely on my own life (well, who doesn't do that...and it takes so much less time) in the first person. About day to day activities. Did my journal ever...even once discuss my daily activities. (Sadly, the 'journal purge' of the early '20's will never allow me to check up on any of these facts)? I recall never discussing my daily activities. I'm totally disinterested in what actually happens around me which is why I don't have what it takes to be a real novelist.

Yet...writing this novel is interesting. Just as painting made me notice the visual much more writing makes me more attentive to the dialogue--to other people--to situations...etc. Even to plots. E.g., I read about (sad story) the head of some Jewish non-profit making a plan to bomb a synagogue and do something else equally atrocious. He slit his throat and jumped over a railing and yet he is still alive. Of course I thought--that's someone's material. That's material (not mine).

Yet...may I mention that writing a novel is simply the absolutely LAST thing I should be doing. That it is a pathway to self-destruction and life implosion as sure as the pre-med's oxycontin habit? Just reminding myself...Have yet to do anything about it, of course. The addiction has begun.


Post a Comment

<< Home