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I should be in bed. Instead I'm reading my own journal. Pretty desperate. Noticed that I wrote the other day that I'd written about Michael Palin exploring a landscape full of 'geezers'... ahem. This puts strange images into my mind.
Feeling a bit frustrated by my writing. Nothing ever bloody well happens in it! People just sit around, and moan, and ramble, and are introspective a lot. Very occasionally they get up the energy to lift a little finger, before slumping, drained, to the ground. It's just so BORING! I've basically written the same fic three times in a row, and this one's not even in the same fandom for God's sake.
LJ is being most charming tonight. It has decided I'm not allowed to reply to posts on anyone else's journal. Perhaps this is its way of telling me I should go to bed.
Feeling a bit frustrated by my writing. Nothing ever bloody well happens in it! People just sit around, and moan, and ramble, and are introspective a lot. Very occasionally they get up the energy to lift a little finger, before slumping, drained, to the ground. It's just so BORING! I've basically written the same fic three times in a row, and this one's not even in the same fandom for God's sake.
LJ is being most charming tonight. It has decided I'm not allowed to reply to posts on anyone else's journal. Perhaps this is its way of telling me I should go to bed.
awake
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A good slap should sort them out. "Shag, boys, shag!" Heh. No, seriously, I can identify with that. But I have double standards, which is why I'm positive yours are having very wonderful conversations. *g*
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I found your lj after I read Protection, which Kest recced. Then I read The Appointment here (I just discovered DiR slash a little while ago — glory be!).
What you've caricatured here is precisely what I love about your writing. I can't do introspection at all — I have to have people move about, and get nervous if they sit still — and I so admire those who can pull it off, because it isn't easy to do and maintain the reader's interest.
This was my very favourite part of The Appointment:
She turned away again and Will busied himself feeding the charity box on the counter with two pence pieces. It was made of clear Perspex; you put a coin into the slot at the top, and you watched it roll along a little slide that zigzagged its way down the inside of the box, past an assortment of grinning cartoon characters printed on the outside, until it landed with a satisfying chink on top of all the other spare change. He put another one in. Roll, roll, roll, chink. He rather liked the noise it made going down.
That description took my breath away. It takes real confidence to write a detail like that, and talent to make it interesting. And 'boring' is the last word I'd use to describe your writing.
Rochefort
(rochefort01@mac.com)
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I can't do introspection at all — I have to have people move about, and get nervous if they sit still
Maybe we should do a little trade - I'll give you some of my introspection if you give me some of your wild activity. *g*