Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Insurmountable Challenges Can Lick My Ass


Since I left home, I’ve been hunted, beaten, locked up, shanghaied, shot at. I’ve had alien creatures in my face, up my nose, inside my brain, down my pants. This is the first time, the first place, where I’ve felt peace.

There is a moment of sadness I feel when I watch that movie (see below), and I feel the same way when I watch the episodes. It isn't the sadness resulting from seeing something truly beautiful put to visible media. It isn't the sadness you feel when a character who has become possibly more real to you than the people you see on the street every day dies. It isn't even the sadness you feel when you know the only new episodes of their lives will exist only in your head.

No, it's the sadness of knowing that you (and by you, I mean me) will never write something as touching and poignant and perfect as that. This is not made any easier by the fact that my Major Story, the story I've worked on for ten years, the story I know backwards and forwards, the story that I want everyone to read... is in so very, very many ways virtually identical to that, and even though I thought of mine first, they go theirs out first, and I will be the plagiarist.

I dwell on this a lot. I understand that all ideas for literature are recycled, and it's more about the writer's take on a subject and the way the writer creates the scenes and emotions and conflict that makes a story great. However, I'm not THAT great of a writer, and even though I will someday put pen to paper (or phalange to keyboard) and get my story out of my head, I will always have that Damocledian fear hanging above me.

*burp*

Well, that was deep for a Wednesday. I'm gearing up to write pulpy crap for NaNo (isn't that just a peachy image?) It's not a story I love, and it's barely a story I like, but I need something I can't over-think, and it's almost impossible to overthink this (if I try, I keep wanting to call myself Dean Koontz). For now, though, I'm going to finish my hot chocolate, get a bottle ready for when my daughter decides I've slept enough, and then go to bed. Since my sleeping pills backfire when I'm sick, I'm on ibuprophen in the hopes that I'll just be numb enough to stay asleep.

That sums up more than I'd like it to.


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