![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I got to thinking today at work about why I can't seem to write well--no, I don't just mean "better than that schmuck," I mean really well--like some published authors out there. (Not all. ^_~ ) The reason I started thinking about it was because I'd seen something last night that stuck with me so much, I wondered how I could work it into a story, after which I got myself to thinking about why I wanted to work it into a story after all.
Okay, here's how it went. First let me just say that I'm a Mets fan (yes, it's relevant.) Nothing against the Yanks (though, shoots, just once I'd like to see the Marlins beat them. I'm a sucker for the underdog.) I do like the Yanks and I know they're a really good ballclub and some of my best friends are Yankees fans, and I like when my best friends are happy, and I don't rub it in when the Yankees fail (though it seems to be okay for them to rub it in when the Mets fail, but whatever.) Anyway, so the point is, I'm not a Derek Jeter fangirl. I see the cuteness and I acknowledge it, but that's about it. (Anyway I have to say, in terms of baseball hotness, Mike Piazza of the Mets is pretty goddamn hot, and there is no one in baseball more beautiful than Robin Ventura--there never has been, and I doubt there ever will be, and how cute does he have to be when he pretends to be Mike Piazza? But anyway.)
So I'm not a Derek Jeter fangirl like two of my other friends, but last night, somewhere around the 10th inning I think, he tried for a bunt and the bat slipped out of his hand. He looked stunned, like, "wha happuh?" and it was cute. But right before he did that, he took this sly, sidelong glance down the third base line to see if it was clear. The only thing he moved was his eyes. They replayed the bat slipping out of his hands like five times, and they replayed his sly, sidelong glance once. Once was enough for me to become unreasonably obssessed with his sly, sidelong glance and start to wonder how I could possibly work that into a story.
WTF? I don't write about baseball. I have no reason to write about someone doing a sly, sidelong glance towards anything, and even if I did, I already wrote a scene like that. Bwah! (I think it was in "Through Layers," when Sheik, firing an arrow, takes a sly, sidelong glance at Malon.)
Some people might think, "well that's neat; it's attention to / obssession with little things like that which make for a detailed, memorable story or moment or whatever," but that's not necessarily true. And it's especially not true if it's done gratuitously, sometimes at the expense of the plot. My plots are convoluted and confusing as it is, and I know that I will sometimes go out of my way, even to the point of confusing the plot even more, just to add some crazy, pointless visual moment like that one.
I don't seem to write stories as stories, but as visual guides with stories incidental to them. I noticed it big time last night, too, as I was catching up on some writing. Most good writers tell you what happened, how it happened, and why. They have a good style and are easy to follow, even if the plot itself is twisted. But as I was writing last night, I realized that I had typed the words, "She nodded" twice in one paragraph. Well, she did nod twice. Then he blinked, then she sighed, then he ran his hand through his hair, then she looked out the window, then he fidgeted with his cel phone, then she sat down, then he paced, then he clenched his hand, then she... You get the idea. It reads almost like I'm trying to direct a movie in my head. Most of my stories are like that. Jeez, it even annoys me sometimes.
This is why I'll probably never be publishable. I see what's going on in my head more often than I understand why it's happening.
Please don't take me seriously! I'm not griping about it; it's not something that bothers me at all. After all, I'm having fun and sometimes other people like to read these things I write, so it's all good.
In other news, I also tried my hand at sketching again last night. I'm certainly not saying that it's good, but I think it's at least obvious that I've been reading Blade again. Seems that everytime I see any work by Hiroaki Samura (who has, I think, surpassed Amano in my SQUEEEEE book O_O ) I get it in my head that it can't possibly be as hard as it seems, and I try it. He makes it look so easy to do those lines and expressions. That's really what it is about his art that distinguishes it, you know; it's that expressiveness. It's so gritty and stark and simple. There's genius in keeping it simple, as witnessed by the fact that, duh, not anyone can do it after all. But it's still fun to try. Those sketches took me a half an hour and are better than some of the ones that I've spent hours on. And the hand came out well, and that makes me happy, because hands are so frigging hard for me.
And, that's it! Aside from that, it's Friday night, and today was a looooong day full of emergencies up until the last minute, which ended up being 65 minutes later than the usual last minute, because people are stupid.
Hope everyone has a great weekend! ^_^
Okay, here's how it went. First let me just say that I'm a Mets fan (yes, it's relevant.) Nothing against the Yanks (though, shoots, just once I'd like to see the Marlins beat them. I'm a sucker for the underdog.) I do like the Yanks and I know they're a really good ballclub and some of my best friends are Yankees fans, and I like when my best friends are happy, and I don't rub it in when the Yankees fail (though it seems to be okay for them to rub it in when the Mets fail, but whatever.) Anyway, so the point is, I'm not a Derek Jeter fangirl. I see the cuteness and I acknowledge it, but that's about it. (Anyway I have to say, in terms of baseball hotness, Mike Piazza of the Mets is pretty goddamn hot, and there is no one in baseball more beautiful than Robin Ventura--there never has been, and I doubt there ever will be, and how cute does he have to be when he pretends to be Mike Piazza? But anyway.)
So I'm not a Derek Jeter fangirl like two of my other friends, but last night, somewhere around the 10th inning I think, he tried for a bunt and the bat slipped out of his hand. He looked stunned, like, "wha happuh?" and it was cute. But right before he did that, he took this sly, sidelong glance down the third base line to see if it was clear. The only thing he moved was his eyes. They replayed the bat slipping out of his hands like five times, and they replayed his sly, sidelong glance once. Once was enough for me to become unreasonably obssessed with his sly, sidelong glance and start to wonder how I could possibly work that into a story.
WTF? I don't write about baseball. I have no reason to write about someone doing a sly, sidelong glance towards anything, and even if I did, I already wrote a scene like that. Bwah! (I think it was in "Through Layers," when Sheik, firing an arrow, takes a sly, sidelong glance at Malon.)
Some people might think, "well that's neat; it's attention to / obssession with little things like that which make for a detailed, memorable story or moment or whatever," but that's not necessarily true. And it's especially not true if it's done gratuitously, sometimes at the expense of the plot. My plots are convoluted and confusing as it is, and I know that I will sometimes go out of my way, even to the point of confusing the plot even more, just to add some crazy, pointless visual moment like that one.
I don't seem to write stories as stories, but as visual guides with stories incidental to them. I noticed it big time last night, too, as I was catching up on some writing. Most good writers tell you what happened, how it happened, and why. They have a good style and are easy to follow, even if the plot itself is twisted. But as I was writing last night, I realized that I had typed the words, "She nodded" twice in one paragraph. Well, she did nod twice. Then he blinked, then she sighed, then he ran his hand through his hair, then she looked out the window, then he fidgeted with his cel phone, then she sat down, then he paced, then he clenched his hand, then she... You get the idea. It reads almost like I'm trying to direct a movie in my head. Most of my stories are like that. Jeez, it even annoys me sometimes.
This is why I'll probably never be publishable. I see what's going on in my head more often than I understand why it's happening.
Please don't take me seriously! I'm not griping about it; it's not something that bothers me at all. After all, I'm having fun and sometimes other people like to read these things I write, so it's all good.
In other news, I also tried my hand at sketching again last night. I'm certainly not saying that it's good, but I think it's at least obvious that I've been reading Blade again. Seems that everytime I see any work by Hiroaki Samura (who has, I think, surpassed Amano in my SQUEEEEE book O_O ) I get it in my head that it can't possibly be as hard as it seems, and I try it. He makes it look so easy to do those lines and expressions. That's really what it is about his art that distinguishes it, you know; it's that expressiveness. It's so gritty and stark and simple. There's genius in keeping it simple, as witnessed by the fact that, duh, not anyone can do it after all. But it's still fun to try. Those sketches took me a half an hour and are better than some of the ones that I've spent hours on. And the hand came out well, and that makes me happy, because hands are so frigging hard for me.
And, that's it! Aside from that, it's Friday night, and today was a looooong day full of emergencies up until the last minute, which ended up being 65 minutes later than the usual last minute, because people are stupid.
Hope everyone has a great weekend! ^_^
