[I hate writing today. I had so much energy and hope for Catherine after I found her again. I tried to write at 1:30 am and Curtis just yelled at me to go to sleep. I gave up trying to make it sound like her and just hit submit. Here we go again.]
My brain won't stop screaming at me. "Stop writing, self! It's the wrong decision!" But I just want something halfway almost decent just to prove I can write. If I can't anymore--if I can't take an idea and deliver on it--what am I? Not a novelist, that's what. So I guess I'll just continue to write anyway. And besides, I have friends who read into everything I write. I feel like I'm writing Childe Harold's Pilgrimmage. Nobody will believe it's not actually me sometimes.
P.S. part of the reason why Catherine is so dead is because there's so little of me in her.
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Oh, Robby.
ReplyDeleteSorry about that. It's not my theory about Catherine, by the way. That doesn't matter.
Of course people read into everything you write. I mean, writing is communication, right? I mean, entertainment, sure, but more than that.
It doesn't mean they're (okay, I'm) always right. Far from it. But they care. They read to get to know you.
When you say "so little of me," are you saying you can't really relate to Catherine, or that you can't put yourself into her story, or what?
It's that I actively created her outside of my existence. I dont know if I did that purposefully to be distant or what.
ReplyDeleteSo do you want to be distant from her now?
ReplyDeleteNo? I mean, I created her far away because if I made anything too close to me, perhaps I would be too honest and the relationship would come across as stupid as heck.
ReplyDeleteSo I think, anywhoo.
Aww. See, you have good reasons.
ReplyDelete