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i oscillate between hope and despair. with regards to my writing... on the one hand, i have followed glimmers of hope in trying to crevice sunlight through this block of darkness. i have separated the storyline into a couple of parallel pathways, and then sought to intertwine them (difficult).,.
but then: i just listened to david mamet, and his discussion on narrative and exposition. to paraphrase: cut, cut, cut. and i agree, but... it's ironic. i speak to my daughter about this all the time. i tell her to just be direct in her writing. get to the point, i say. but then, i struggle with exactly the same thing here. as mamet says, muddled writing comes from muddled thinking. and i will say, with complete honesty, that i have a lot of muddled thinking right now. i want to clarify, but... i have an addiction to ambiguity.
so i need to return to it all with new eyes. cut cut cut. find the heart. find the heart. find the heart. stab the heart.
make it bleed. make it hurt. kill.
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right now, my dog is lying down on his side next to me. he makes his presence known through contact. he doesn't like to get close to anyone, especially me, but on odd moments, like when i am down on the ground typing on my laptop, he will appear there...
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i don't really know what else i want to say tonight... i guess i will just get down to writing.
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