I have been writing.
No really, I mean really writing. As in fiction. As in, a story. I started writing it ages ago, when I still lived in the apartment. I remember starting it actually. I grabbed a notebook, and sat outside by the pool. There was no one swimming because it was a windy day. I hand wrote about 10 pages. The next day, I did the same thing. The day after that, I only wrote five. And then I put it away.
This story that I’m writing is crap. I suppose it will be good one day, but at the minute, it’s crap. The main character (a high school senior) is telling me the story from her point of view, but she keeps leaving out the important things. She wants to tell me the mundane, and I want to know the reason behind everything.
I don’t really mind this crap first draft. She’s telling me her version of events, and how she things and feels and acts. If I’m lucky, I’ll get the major love interest to tell me his side of the story (not that it’s a love story), because he’s as untalkative as they come. He is so obviously in love with her, but he doesn’t say a word, and when he does, it’s any utter surprise.
Did you know characters could take over like this? When I started writing, I started with a vague notion of high school. I didn’t know I’d get this sullen girl who can’t see what’s right in front of her. Some times I want to inject myself into the story, to tell her to wake up and see him already. But I think she will on her own, in time.
I just wish she’d finish telling me this scene. She keeps crying, and it goes on and on. I mean, I think I know why she’s crying, but I’ve been working on this scene for a week now, and she tells it to me so slowly.
If I ever finish it, I might let someone read it. But, probably not. Not until the second draft, when I can tell the story myself. This first-person-present-tense isn’t helping me any. It slows the story down, which she needs so that she can tell it to me, but I want to rush things along.
Can you tell I’m not a very patient person when it comes to writing? We’ll see how it goes, I suppose. Until I get seduced away by another story.
—”The Only Difference Between Martyrdom And Suicide Is Press Coverage,” A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out: Panic! At the Disco
You know what’s lame? Being 23 and home on a Friday night—St. Patrick’s day, no less—while the rest of the city is out partying without you.
Oh, wait, it’s me that’s lame. But that’s nothing new.
I am bored out of my mind. Sure, there are things I could do. Math homework, English papers, that sock I was hoping to finish tonight.
But, no. I’ve settled on writing. What, I have no idea. But writing it is. It will probably involve forum postings, a longish email to You, and maybe a short story.
Anyway, I ran into Knorr today, and is it wrong to have a school-girl crush on a writer, but dislike their writing? Knorr is the funniest guy (who still owes me donuts from last semester), and I really enjoyed the class, enough so that I would take another class by him, even if sometimes it felt like we weren’t learning anything.
But, last semester I checked one of his poetry books out of the library, after I couldn’t find it in any local bookstore (sure, Sacramento loves its writers). I didn’t like any of his poems, and it kind of made me sad. He writes about nature, which is all well and good, but just not my thing. It was a little hard to understand where he was coming from, even though I knew where he was coming from.
But, in all Knorr is a great guy, and if I were ten years older, and he was single, I’d be thinking about it. Maybe I shouldn’t be writing about it? I’m always attracted to my decently attractive male teachers. Which might be why I like male teachers.
And, if I hadn’t of dropped my phone in the toilet, I’d have a photo of Knorr to post, that M took last semester. I’m kicking myself right now for not emailing it to myself when I had the chance.
Also, yes, I get to hob-knob with real, published writers. In addition to Knorr, the Dean of the English Department is also published. Granted, there are only poets on campus, but I plan to change that.
— “The World’s Not Waiting (For Five Tired Boys In A Broken Down Van),” Evening Out With Your Girlfriend: Fall Out Boy
