Sunday, 21 September 2014

...Finding Creativity

So lately fellows I've been feeling really lost when it comes to my writing. I go to pick up my special writing pen, (because everyone has a special writing pen - obviously. If you don't well, something's clearly not quite right...) and I wait, hand poised in position above my notebook, eyes staring uselessly at the page willing my hand to just start moving. 

Then the brain kicks in and starts screaming "Write! Just write something, for the love of God! Move your bloody hand!" And so I do, I start writing, something, anything and I think "wow this is amazing, an uninhabited stream of consciousness, this is pure gold". I imagine publishing houses fighting over who gets to publish this masterpiece, the book flying of the shelves once published and critics all over the world exclaiming how my work, my glorious work, is better then anything they have ever read, ever. Better then Bronte, Austen, Dickens, Wilde, Pullman, Angelou, Keroac, Orwell, better even then Dante's Inferno, its THAT good. 

And I become excited, throughout this daydream I've let my hand continue to write, not wanting to spoil the marvellous work I'm subconsciously creating and when my hand gently grazes the end of the page, I look down, proudly. I take a deep breath and let my eyes make their way slowly to the top of the page and begin to read. Soon that feeling of joy dissipates. As I continue further down the page all I can think is "What the fuck. Who wrote this shit? It's so smug, I just want to punch myself in the face for being such a pretentious wanker". The daydream I had previously returns and the publishing houses are mocking me, laughing at my failure, the critics turn vicious and start swiping at me with their own writing pens, tearing down my masterpiece and leaving nothing but tattered lines of dialogue, floating hopelessly around my bruised ego. I shudder and put my pen down. 

And this is how it's been for the past few months. 

"Well", I hear you screaming, "what are you going to do about it? Mope around like a little pansy or get back on it?"

Good question, I've tried the moping and it's futile, it just makes whatever I try to write worse, so I'm gonna get back on it, I'm gonna kick writing in the face and make it my bitch. I'm gonna make it crawl and bow down to my superiority. 

(It's a little sadistic I know but hey, whatever works, works, right?) 

However, in order to do this I need a little help (typical). Yesterday I asked the boyfriend to give me a genre, length and deadline and now I've got 30 days to write (at least) a 300 page Thriller novel. Never let it be said that Rachel Elizabeth McKenzie shirks away from a challenge. I'm going to do it, it may be a load of drivel that no one in their right mind would ever read or it may be a bit of alright and a few select people will absolutely love it. But that's the risk isn't it? And why the bloody hell not! 

I'm throwing myself at this with everything I've got and we shall see what emerges on the other side. I'm not going to censor myself, I don't care if I offend, better to write something that gets people talking then writing something that people forget within a matter of minutes. I even done a story arch - THAT'S how serious I am.

I'll post a few bits and bobs on here and give you a few updates - unless I'm huddled in a corner, broken and crying, then expect nothing from me. 

Wish me luck. 

1 comment:

  1. Your own personal - I did Nanowrimo - I did not get a novel... but I did rescue three cracking short stories out of it and the realisation that I am not a novelist. Shame the short story genre is almost dead... Do it, I can tell you its bloody painful - and you will want to kick yourself a LOT - but do it, you will feel SO much better afterwards...