Sick and tired
Jan. 13th, 2007 04:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceI haven't been well these last few days, and I also haven't been working much: just picking my way through the play, making vague gestures at a redraft, feeling really fed up with the whole process and deeply uncommitted to it.
I thought it was because I was sick, because I couldn't possibly be bored, could I? With my own work? No, never...
And I'm not, not really. I think what it is, though, I am screamingly bored - sick and tired, as my mother would say - of doing rewrites. In the last couple of months, I've written two short stories and a proposal; apart from that, it's been endless proofs & edits, and I've just had enough. I want to throw real words at the screen again, and I can't, because this has to be done; and then when it is done, y'know what? There's a whole novel waiting for a rewrite, and it's been waiting too long already. Sigh, sob...
Also, of course, I'm so fed up with it all, I'm really not doing a good job on the play here. I should be picking it apart, not picking at it. I'm not good at this anyway, remaking a piece substantially; I can polish for ever, but my whole process is so linear (I start at the beginning, and write till I get to the end, and that's always how I conceive the work, from page to page, moment to moment), my only sense of structure is a rope. This leads to that leads to that. Which makes it hard to reshape. Especially through dialogue, which is the definition of flow.
So gah, basically. I sit here and fiddle, to no great effect. I'd give it up and go cook something, if I didn't feel so grot. I broke a full bottle of nuoc mam at lunchtime, trying to make pho. It's been haunting me all day...
I thought it was because I was sick, because I couldn't possibly be bored, could I? With my own work? No, never...
And I'm not, not really. I think what it is, though, I am screamingly bored - sick and tired, as my mother would say - of doing rewrites. In the last couple of months, I've written two short stories and a proposal; apart from that, it's been endless proofs & edits, and I've just had enough. I want to throw real words at the screen again, and I can't, because this has to be done; and then when it is done, y'know what? There's a whole novel waiting for a rewrite, and it's been waiting too long already. Sigh, sob...
Also, of course, I'm so fed up with it all, I'm really not doing a good job on the play here. I should be picking it apart, not picking at it. I'm not good at this anyway, remaking a piece substantially; I can polish for ever, but my whole process is so linear (I start at the beginning, and write till I get to the end, and that's always how I conceive the work, from page to page, moment to moment), my only sense of structure is a rope. This leads to that leads to that. Which makes it hard to reshape. Especially through dialogue, which is the definition of flow.
So gah, basically. I sit here and fiddle, to no great effect. I'd give it up and go cook something, if I didn't feel so grot. I broke a full bottle of nuoc mam at lunchtime, trying to make pho. It's been haunting me all day...
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(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-13 06:04 pm (UTC)What you could do is request more time, or less time. The former gives you some much needed room to breathe, and perhaps write. The latter takes it away indefinitely, using your frustration and anger to get the proofing/editing done more quickly than you might have intended to, freeing up some time also!
Yeah, it's early. Haven't had enough coffee...
Kealan