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Sitting down to write and finding the story turning 180 degrees into something completely different: THE WORST. I know not everyone feels that way, but the way my process works is, just because I know the story is about this and that doesn't mean I actually know what to say or what will happen. So on the rare occasions where the plot just weirdly MORPHS the part of my brain that produces words becomes a car spinning its wheels in a snowbank, and I just have to. Work out the goddamned localized problem. For some reason I was falling asleep inappropriately, too - in a cafe at 4PM, on my THIRD of the day not counting decaf (a lot for me), not having slept much less than average, and yet I was literally faceplanting into my cup. And trying to write longhand, in this hypnogogic state. In fact I suppose that is why the story turned into something I would never have considered while awake; I literally wrote "WHERE THE FUCK IS THIS GOING" in the margin and turned the page and started working on something else.
So now what to do with this, rolling. It'll take me six months to knock it into sense, and it's meant to be a holiday drabble.
So now what to do with this, rolling. It'll take me six months to knock it into sense, and it's meant to be a holiday drabble.
no subject
Date: 2012-01-04 03:06 am (UTC)(And if you ever want someone to vent at, I'm around, though at odd hours on weekdays.)
no subject
Date: 2012-01-04 09:06 pm (UTC)