(no subject)

[deelaundry]

Typing up an old original fic to show Sauty, and in another fic, I came across this passage that seemed especially relevant to my life just now.  Writing about writing is such a damn cliche, but that's what this story was.  The narrator of the story just wrote a few-hundred word passage about "Amanda," and then she says:

And then what?   And then what happened?  Oh, shit I've lost it.  Shit.

I think that was a dream sequence, diary.  I don't really know.  I'd have to ask Amanda.  But I can't because that short bit is all I know of her.  I'm trying to call her up again, to find out what the playground is:  reality, dream, metaphor, to make her tell me what happened to that little boy, but it's impossible.  Amanda is gone forever, another character about whom I could write no more than a page.

I got a million of 'em, baby, and it bothers me.  I should be able to control these people that I make up in my head, but I can't.  They appear of their own free will and leave me when it suits them best.  The only constant is me.

Comments

[nightdog-barks.livejournal.com]

Original fic or a "real" entry?

Either way it doesn't matter because it's true, true, true. You and I both know it. They appear and talk and talk and talk and then are gone like the ghosts they are. Or they don't appear, and it kills us because we know all the words they have stored up inside but they aren't letting them out where we can see them.

They rule us and we rule them and a lot of the time we can't tell the difference. They're just with us, all the time, looking over our shoulders and saying, "Yes, that key, now this one, and over here if you please."

And that's all it is. The sound of one hand clapping.

Yes?

Yes.

*smiles at the absurdity of it all*

[mystcphoenxcafe.livejournal.com]

Greetings!

"They rule us and we rule them and a lot of the time we can't tell the difference."

Beautifully said.
And so true.

-Katrina

[blackmare.livejournal.com]

Yeah, they do that, don't they? Same thing in painting as in writing, as I'm quickly learning.

But then sometimes they come back, things return years later, when you never, ever expected to see them again. And then again sometimes they don't.

I've just had the idea of compiling a list of names that intrigue me. Names from my past, from my surroundings, wherever; names which seem to me like they ought to be attached to something or someone. Kettren, Lybass, Lostman, Hart.

Anyway -- I'll stop rambling now, because I've got to go over the river and through the orange groves, to Grandmother's House. :-)

[mystcphoenxcafe.livejournal.com]

Greetings!

"I should be able to control these people that I make up in my head, but I can't."
Good Fortune on the doing, because you'll need it!!! :lol

One of the few constants I've noted in author-listening, is that almost without exception, they speak of the characters becoming alive, separate from their creators (and bossy as all get out, too!). Almost without exception. Even the most prosaic, non-magick believing of 'em all. Interesting, is it not?

-Katrina