Posted on 08/17/2006 8:36:45 PM PDT by Number57
I've had this story worked out in my mind for going on twenty years. 1989. But now... I am stuck. I started a book based on it, but I'm no writer, obviously. I constantly re-read and edit, and re-read and edit more.
Probably because I've posted part of the story on sites that critique writing.
Anyway. I've hit a wall. A large brick wall. I've since stopped editing my own stuff, but try as I might, I can't write another chapter that I'm okay with. How do you, in your experience, get past it? I'll appreciate any help anyone can offer.
It's futuristic :>)
*SOB* story of my life!! *sniffle*
Good ideas.
Time is winding down. Use the moments remaining with grace.
For all that we have failed to accomplish, there must be a letting go. Find joy and beauty in this moment and this day.
For tomorrow and the day after are tenuous concepts.
Rejoice in this dawn, if it arrives, and look for the peace that permeates all creation.
MA
Quit your day job. Bet everything on your ability to write and sell the novel. In sixty or ninety days the motivation will kick in.
LOL. If the motivation doesn't kick in soon enough he will be becoming a DUer angry at the world and fighting his alter-ego
You must read this cool article by Stephen King on how to write. http://www.jccommerce.com/2006/07/18/everything-you-need-to-know-about-writing-successfully-in-ten-minutes-by-stephen-king/
zombies show up and eat everyone. (see, a happy ending)
See??? You've got what it takes, Number57. Just don't let the details overwhelm you. Go with the flow. But please, don't let Flo kill Chena. Please? ;)
Please forgive my misdirected post.
MA
My contribution is somewhere on their website, but my name is attached to it and I don't want some rabid DUer to wake up some morning, drink an extra mug of crazy, and decide to kidnap a Freeper for kicks.
I could probably handle being tied up and beaten, but what if they made me look at naked pictures of the Code Pinkos?
*laughing* Life's a hoot. You never know what it will throw are you. Just make sure you have your trusty well oiled baseball mitt handy. lol
Ah, the world. An ungrateful lover, the world is. But, what did he bring to the world, for it to be grateful? That was the question that tormented him, ever since that day in the rain, when the only woman he ever loved, told him the news that brought his life down, like a very unstable house of cards built with rejects from an abandoned Indian casino in the middle of the Oklahoma Panhandle. The news, that even to this day, made him cry like a hungry baby with a soiled diaper in the middle of the night. Yes, those fateful words, uttered by her, without any hesitation, because that was never her style.
You'd better duck, 'cause your goose is cooked. ;)
That is dethpicable!
Uh huh...did you all see that? Number 57 had to take a 30 minute break to "think", right after a post to me, Chena! I take that as a good sign that Chena will live afterall. Ummmmmmm...worry, worry, fret, fret...... unless Number57 is now imagining the most horrifying way to end the life 'n times of beautiful, Chena.
You'll find that the best advice on this thread are the posts that simply suggest that you put it away and forget about it for a while.
Something will pop into your head while you're in the shower or eating dinner or doing some other mundane task. Your subconscious will still be at hard at work on the problem, although you won't know it until inspiration hits.
If nothing comes in a few days, put the text in a drawer and leave it alone -- and I mean *completely* alone -- for 4 or 5 months. Then go back and read it again from page one. Almost always, I've found that the solutions to the problems of the work immediately become apparent. Distance allows you to see things that you missed while in the throes of struggling with the work.
But here's the thing...almost all serious, extended writer's blocks are based on emotions. You need to identify the emotion that is holding you down. The absolute best book that explains it is "The Now Habit." On Amazon it's found at...
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0874775043/sr=8-1/qid=1155876100/ref=sr_1_1/102-0855505-6998535?ie=UTF8
It has helped me understand why I was not able to complete projects, and how to overcome the problem. I advise this book for anyone who has a problem with procrastination.
Prof. Miller's In-class Assignment for Wednesday.
Today we will experiment with a new form called the 'tandem story'. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. One of you will write the first paragraph of a short story. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back and forth. There is to be absolutely NO talking. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached."
The following was actually turned in by two students: Rebecca and Gary.
THE STORY:
(first paragraph by Rebecca) At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question.
(second paragraph by Gary) Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation 17,....", he said into his transgalactic communicator. "Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could sign off a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.
(Rebecca) He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. "Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel," Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspapers to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she pondered wistfully.
(Gary) Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu'udrian mothership launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace Disarmament Treaty through the congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty the Anu'udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret Mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid, Laurie and 85 million other Americans. The President slammed his fist on the conference table. "We can't allow this! I'm going to veto that treaty! Let's blow 'em out of the sky!"
(Rebecca) This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic semi-literate adolescent.
(Gary) Yeah? Well, you're a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. "Oh shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of f*****g TEA??? Oh no, I'm such an air headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele novels."
(Rebecca) Asshole.
(Gary) Bitch.
(TEACHER) A+ - I really liked this one. Only group to get an A
Ask LS. LS just published a book that I hear is great. I've yet to read it though.
What cared she of style? He was going to be a father she told him bluntly and without passion, with a look on her face that made him recoil. A casino in Oklahoma was not the place for such news. Especially since he had just lost $500.00 at the craps table. He left that night and headed for Louisiana and never looked back, until now.
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