A night off. No writing. None. Of any kind. Yes, that’s me, writing in sentence fragments. Is it a style? Can being lazy be a style? Maybe. But I do a lot of things differently because I want my voice, my narrative voice, to be unique. It would be the worst compliment imaginable to hear “oh, your writing sounds just like” and then insert fabulous author’s name at the end.
Why would it be insulting? Because I am not trying to sound like someone else; I am trying to sound like me/ That does not mean I wish for no comparison’s. Tell me that my writing is evocative of the kind of forward thinking or muted desperation of some famed author and I will take that as a compliment without question. Tell me I sound just like him and you have called me a copycat. There is nothing worse in any form of art than a copy cat.
So last night I took the night completely off. I went out with friends; we had dinner, drinks, and laughter. There is nothing better for the soul than the enjoyment of the company of others – and yet there is possibly nothing worse for writing.
I think writing is an art that comes from the tortured voices inside our heads giving us words to write down. Yes, I think every form of fiction comes from the depths of a tortured mind. It is not really significant what genre the writing portrays – sci-fi, horror, romance, fantasy, crime, western – there is something inside that makes you feel unfinished as a human until those words escape your mind and find their way to some form of paper, be that digital or old-fashioned.
Not everyone has this drive. Some prefer athletics, painting, sewing, gardening, acting, singing and a host of other artistic endeavors that we do not pursue. Make no mistake, there is some force compelling us to do what we do.
Being around people? that matters in writing. We need inspiration and if we sit alone in the dark, the inspiration will fade as we devolve. We need to see others; a realness that we do not possess so we can have some reality to our tales. event fantasy horror tales need a touch of reality – it is what draws people in to the story.
So I had some drinks. I got a character name; Mark Todd. That is a promise to a friend. Virtual deaths can be cathartic can they not? Mark Todd will appear in some future work, and he will die. But there were also many laughs, and much merriment as this group, people I have known for over 30 years, convened to celebrate the visit of a friend from the East coast.
Some of us were close 30 years ago, and some of us were just acquaintance. But thirt years later, we can all still get together ona Friday night for dinner and drinks.
That is inspiring in a way all it’s own.
No, I did not write yesterday. But my mind continued to become better at the art of writing.