After the muse, the backache.
Nov. 15th, 2005 01:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lenora_roseWow, that was intense.
Just rewrote the 3/4 demi-climax scene, the place I stalled before, where my main charactrer finally snaps. Wow. Wow. Wow. That's tiring. I tried to fake myself by starting with a chunk of the raw prose I'd written so far, meaning to rearrange it. "Let's just edit a bit. How's that?" Then I got into it, really into it, and nothing would do but to delete it all and run with new prose. I borrowed a little towards the very end again, but... oh. My. The muse was definitely here with me through all that tonight, and had her way with me.
Not to say it's necessarily good writing on a sentence level. Time and editing will tell if the prose is full of howlers. But my mind got right into the scene and dug it, and dug in, and dragged out all this rage and catharsis, and oh, it's good when it goes like that.
Ow. My back hurts, and I'm sleepy. Time to nestle down.
The fallout scene coming up is going to be even more fun, and even more flying without a net, as there isn't any raw prose for this next bit, not even from the older older drafts, nothing I can pretend to be starting with. With luck, the muse will take this as a come-on for another round.
(This comes after having to express my faith statement out loud to the Diggers group. Never mind that several of them had already done so, and at least one was weirder than me. It left my hands shaking to do anyhow. It's hard, putting that kind of thing in words, and harder to present to people, even friends.)
Just rewrote the 3/4 demi-climax scene, the place I stalled before, where my main charactrer finally snaps. Wow. Wow. Wow. That's tiring. I tried to fake myself by starting with a chunk of the raw prose I'd written so far, meaning to rearrange it. "Let's just edit a bit. How's that?" Then I got into it, really into it, and nothing would do but to delete it all and run with new prose. I borrowed a little towards the very end again, but... oh. My. The muse was definitely here with me through all that tonight, and had her way with me.
Not to say it's necessarily good writing on a sentence level. Time and editing will tell if the prose is full of howlers. But my mind got right into the scene and dug it, and dug in, and dragged out all this rage and catharsis, and oh, it's good when it goes like that.
Ow. My back hurts, and I'm sleepy. Time to nestle down.
The fallout scene coming up is going to be even more fun, and even more flying without a net, as there isn't any raw prose for this next bit, not even from the older older drafts, nothing I can pretend to be starting with. With luck, the muse will take this as a come-on for another round.
(This comes after having to express my faith statement out loud to the Diggers group. Never mind that several of them had already done so, and at least one was weirder than me. It left my hands shaking to do anyhow. It's hard, putting that kind of thing in words, and harder to present to people, even friends.)
