Blogging about writing is great–when you’re the writer. But, in my experience, it totally sucks as the reader.
Yeah, I mean sure I want to hear about how your story/novel/poem is coming along. I’d love to know that you’re making progress. That you got signed. That your book will be on shelves this week. That you just hit some Best Sellers List and were invited to this party with all these amazing authors who know you by name and now they are making your story into a Lifetime movie. (No need to get cocky, there buddy.)
Yes, of course I want to celebrate with you over your progress!
But, to be honest, I don’t really care if that one character is giving you problems, or if you’ve got a wicked case of writer’s block. And if you think I’m going to read your 1000 word essay about why and how you choose your setting for the first scene–eh, I’m not. I mean I will try to read it, so I can not feel like a total ass when you ask me what I thought about it later–but by the first paragraph I will be thinking about what there is to snack on, or how long it is until I need to switch over my laundry. Or, more likely, I’ll start thinking about my own story that I’m working on.
It’s not that I don’t care. It’s just that… I don’t care quite as much as you do. You know?
Writing is fun. I mean it’s work. And it’s frustrating. And annoying. And sometimes makes you want to scream your face off because you can’t get this dialog between Jordan and Suzanne working like you need it to. And just ugh, you know? Over all though, it’s a pretty enjoyable job. But, see–it’s a lonely kind of enjoyment. Like when we get that dialog just right, and we’re on top of the freaking world, and we can’t stop reading it, and we just want to tell someone how freaking awesome we are because we just dominated that fucking scene with every bit of writerly awesomeness we could muster, and then we start enthusiastically explaining all of this to the person sitting nearest to us and we slowly watch their smile turn into a glazed look of complete and utter boredom.
Just ask my poor husband.
I mean yeah, he cares. Of course he cares!
Just not quite as much as I do.
But, you know when he will really care? When I have it all written out, in a book, in which the dialog that I have been prattling on and on and on about finally finds some context for him.
It is for this very reason that my blog is rather quiet these past few weeks. I’m working on a book (KH, pooh, pooh, pooh) and I am enmeshed in this whole world that only currently lives in my head. I am in the thick of intertwining story lines and character bios. And literally the only thing I have to write about is this scene I am so freaking excited about and how much research I’ve had to do on several topics to get the characters just so. And OMG it’s awesome. I mean, like super ridiculous, perfect. PERFECT!
(Well, in my head, anyhow.)
But, I just simply cannot stand to bore you with all of the mind-numbing details.
So, I decided to just post a picture of a recent day trip to DC instead.