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I suppose there's a worn-out plotline for the psychotic episodes of a wanna-be writer. I'm at Act II, Scene 7: Heroine Reads Recently Completed Story and Chokes on Her Own Bile. I've become so sick of my own syncopated style that I rebel by talking in drawn-out James Joyce paragraphs when I interact with people in real life. My children. They think I'm like some kind of haywire Happy Meal toy that won't quit talking about Shreks farts. The tellers at Missoula Federal Credit Union draw straws to see who has to put up with my babbling commentary on the relative merits of chained-up pens vs. a cup of complimentary pens. All because my so-called style is a Hemingway/Carver ripoff. Short sentences. Succinct details. Lots of dialogue. Plenty of headaches. Much hand-wringing. Never satisfied. Act II, Scene 8: Heroine, Recovering from a Near-Death-By-Bile-Strangulation Experience, Joins a Merry Band of Recycling Hippies and Grows Out Her Armpit Hair and Sells Hemp Sunglasses. Pictures to follow.
posted by Mignon at 9:34 PM
I can't sustain a Hemingwayesque style at all. Am too enamored of commas (oh, how I love them) and lengthy asides.
You know, if you wrote a story or novel in which the narrator had much the same voice as your blog self, that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world--that casual wit vibe could propel the reader along quite nicely.
You could go the way of flutter and e-mail out select pieces to on-line people you trust and get a different take...
Orange, I've thought about that a lot. I still think about it a lot. But the stories I'm telling just don't feel that way. So then I've thought about new stories, and the only way I could write like this (bloggity-speak) is if I were talking about myself, or someone very much like myself. And that feels wrong. Like cheating.
OTJ, I need to do that, regardless of whether I like it or not. I've got one good reader I can depend on, and he's busy and lives a thousand miles away. And he doesn't know I'm depending solely on his thoughts. He's my beacon of Red Pen.
I admit to curiousity as to what you have written.
Could it be that bad? Could you be completely wrong about how bad it is? How can i know?
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Sounds like you're writing very self-consciously. Drink more. It's like dancing, you'll think you're amazing at it.
Sorry, that's flip. I wish I had some real advice. Remember about finding the fossils and digging them out. Stop focusing on how you're chipping away at the dirt.
Meno, I know it's not that bad. I'm just tired of my own voice. And I can't tell whether it shows or not. I need to leave it alone for a while - this particular story, at least. And I can't post it here because y'all are too nice.
Mamalujo, I've thought about that first part. Because all the writers I admire died of some kind of alcoholism. And also, to write with a sober mind is a little tortuous. Exactly like the analogy you made. Quit looking at me!
oh joy, bliss, satisfaction, happiness, gladness, gratification, and pleasure!!!!! Delight and enchantment, cheer and good will!!!! Hello Mignon!!!!! I have no idea what you posted. I read it, but I'm giddy with blog love. I might be drooling too. Not positive.
Thanks Spellconjurer. You make me smile and feel good about myself.
Wait! I won't be nice! Send it to me!
Damn that's a lot of !s. I feel like Doocefan.
Mignon - give T a call. She has been doing some editing work for an author friend. She's very discreet - she never lets me see any of it...
may i have your autograph?
that is all.
xoxoxoxoxo
So glad you are still alive!!!!
I think this post just made me fall in love with you all over again.
(Only when I say love I actually mean lust. *wink*)
I can't wait to read your book after I've bought a newly minted copy (and you'd better fucking sign it, man).
p.s. when your pit hair's real nice and growed out can I braid it?
xo
I feel as if I'm in a movie. You fell overboard in a storm from a Rosie O'Donnell cruise for gay families. (or maybe you jumped, I don't know) I threw the life ring to Rosie, not you, because I jumped in MYSELF to rescue you. (aren't I swell?) I have drug you up onto the beach where you are all QUIET AND NOT POSTING (oops I meant saying) anything and I am shaking your wet, drippy, sort of blue self and yelling MIGNONNNNNN SAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY SOMETHINGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!
still missing you!
Never mind why we are BOTH on a cruise for gay families. She says everyone is invited, gay or otherwise.(is that politically incorrect? if the parents are gay is it a "gay family"?)
You came back for a minute! Yay!!!
Personally, I love Hemingway/Carver ripoffs. Feel free to send it to me. I'll be whatever you want--nice OR bitchy.
You're quite good at the blogging, Missy. Whether you like it or not.