fiction

Water Water

I’ve started drinking tap water. The plastic jugs are over-running the apartment and starting to drive me crazy. Note to visitors — if you want bottled water, from now on bring your own. FYI. Yes, the tap water is a bit skanky. I will probably invest in some sort of filter to put right on the tap or at the very least a Brita pitcher. But I never really liked water anyway, it’s purely for health reasons that I drink it at all, so why not suffer for it? Think of the money I’ll save! And the room!

Yesterday I wrote a scene, fleshed out the notes from the day before. That’s pretty cool. I’m shocked the boy has started talking again. I’m shocked to be seeing these folks again after such a long period apart.

I thought the writers’ group meetings were finished for the summer, so I was pretty surprised yesterday to get a call seeing if I was going to go. I guess the Sackville group must be the one that takes summers off. So, my new thing is not to turn down any opportunity no matter how busy I am (which is a struggle I don’t always win) so I said sure, I’d go! Then I scrambled to find something to share. The new stuff seemed too raw, plus there’s not much of it yet. I went into Gun Play (the Katt’s Lives stories) edited somewhat, added some character names, but couldn’t get it to within sharing distance. So I opened the only other thing I had on my computer that I hadn’t shared with this group yet, 3:33. I took some time to change it from third person to first. I’ve been doing a lot of first person writing lately. Experimenting. I’m still not comfortable there. I still don’t feel I’m very good at it. It’s easier to take a third person and put it into first than to start from fresh in the first. 99.99% of people/writers would likely disagree with that point, I would think. Most people start out writing in the first person because it is easiest and then move into the thirds as their skills develop. Not I. Exact opposite. I have yet to meet anyone like me in that way.

Anyway, I changed the point of view on the story, took it, and read it to the group to much praise and compliments . . . but I still don’t know if it works or not. That piece is over-written. On purpose. I wanted it to be a bit over the top, melodramatic, etc. because it’s about a woman’s unhealthy obsession with an ex-boyfriend, her first true love. You know, she can’t get him out of her mind, and all the memories of him are wonderful, idyllic, perfection! Until the last, when he suddenly goes off to marry someone else. So I deliberately overwrote it . . . which in the third person, I gotta say, confused the crap out of a lot of people who know the way I normally write. I mean I’ve got alliteration up the wazoo in this piece! “…snuggled satisfied in the sagged centre…concealed in the cedar scented shadows silently waiting…” That’s some kinda wordy overblown stuff for me to be spouting there! So, the third person totally didn’t work because it just looked like I didn’t know how to write. I put it into first and I still don’t know. The small group last night thought I was brilliant, but I gave a reading of the story, which meant I could add subtle nuances and cadence with my voice . . . would they have had the same sense if they read it on their own? I don’t know. I mean, maybe the story is done. Maybe that’s it. Send it off! To where? I’m not sure. But maybe I need to give up on the theory that the overwriting adds something to the tone, strip it naked and just let the story speak for itself. Or maybe the story isn’t strong enough to stand naked and just be told? Maybe there’s not enough to care about there? Maybe I’m just not interested in telling this particular story anymore? I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.

Maybe I need to let someone else see it in its current state. Aha! There’s a plan.

Mood: pondering
Drinking: coffee, cold, black, and water, chlorinated from the tap
Listening To: church bells announcing noon
Hair: pushed off my forehead

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Categories: fiction, water, writing

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