Faith, Or The Opposite Of Pride + the mizu chronicles + 15550 Curiosities served |
2001-10-27 1:00 AM And There's Ash In The Pages. Previous Entry :: Next Entry Mood: Contemplative ==================================================
Locations: Home. Just woke from a late afternoon nap after running errands all morning and then watching The Matrix with Peter. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed that film. So far, this weekend has been a mish-mash of random thoughts. Friday morning, I had a pleasant IM with Jenn about writing. We discussed Peter's recent progress on Violence Engine and she asked "How is your writing?". I answered that I wasn't writing right now. She then asked "What is it that you write?" and it occurred to me that she didn't know. This surprised me somehow, but I'm not sure why. I've never shown Jenn any of my work. Peter has only seen several poems and snips of my prose. I realized that I haven't shown anyone anything I've done in a year or so. I began to wonder why and concluded that it's resulted from a mixture of shyness and a lack of confidence in the work itself (typically, I never feel that it's been polished quite right). I discussed this with Peter over dinner Friday night. I mentioned that Jenn and I had talked about my writing again and, since everyone around me is currently working on fantasy pieces, I was considering trying my hand at fantasy for the first time. He was encouraging. When I mentioned my hesitance to do so in the light of not having really read any fantasy aside from the typical Arthurian standards, he replied "Bah. Jump in, write a few stories, get an idea of characters and what you want to write about it and do it.". So I've promised myself that I'll sit down this weekend and try to outline a fantasy piece. I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, my conversation with Jenn moved me to rifle through some of my older poems and post a few here. I'm not sure if I've still got Peter's courage to mass-mail my stuff for critique. There's something more comfortable in the idea of displaying it here. Several of these are simply pieces of poems--all but two are still in progress. Untitled (3.2001)(fragment) I don't need to chase you now I saw this coming when I saw her. There will be time enough to describe
8:10 AM, Monday morning Otherwise, I wouldn't have chosen I can speak again, but instead, The shower sputters.
Something made of denim and ash,
He is satisfied. Untitled (2.2001)(fragment) The sound of friction from another room, Previous Entry :: Next Entry Back to Top |
||||||
© 2001-2010 JournalScape.com. All rights reserved. All content rights reserved by the author. custsupport@journalscape.com |