In which things are sticky.
Dec. 15th, 2012 12:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
impulsereaderI've been employing the spray glue and all I've accomplished is making myself grumpy and the kitchen sticky.
Changing the subject abruptly and completely.
Not so long ago, I began writing stories.
And Sherlock was left with no choice but to trust John. And he did trust him. He trusted John with his life.
I'm just getting back there (hopefully) recently, but I now understand when some authors tell me they don't remember writing a story (which I'd just read and given a rave review) because yesterday I was reading a story I wrote and at turns enjoying it, thinking I really should fix up that paragraph or Sherlock's characterization, and wondering where the hell that line came from.
It wasn’t even technically the anniversary of the day Sherlock hadn’t actually died.
When I first started writing stories I labored over each bit of every one. I read each of them over and over again until I was reading them through without making changes. I loved reading them as much as I loved writing them. The fact that I've posted a story which I am now reading and frowning at is disturbing to me. But - I don't have time to spare to actually fix the fic in question. I mean, technically, I have time for whatever I actually want to do at this point. I could fix the darn story. ... (I could be fixing it instead of writing this entry) ... But I'm supposed to be finishing the interludes and making inroads into the Much Ado fic so that I actually eventually finish that. I thought I was doing well to write the entire first bit before I began posting, but now I feel I should have written the entire thing first.
“Look, Sherlock, I’m fine. You knocked me over. That’s just what you do. I’ll be fine.”
I recently was faced with (and tried not to think about) the fact that I've been attempting to write the June interlude for about two months now. To my mind, that's fairly ridiculous. And, yes, I've moved house. I've had all sorts of rl stuff going on and even more which I should be paying more attention to than I am - but that's just an excuse.
Of course it worked; he was Sherlock Holmes. He was a born actor and a born scene-maker. The hospital staff never stood a chance.
And I've fallen terribly behind on my Sherlock 60s - which depresses me a lot - I love doing them and I love the collaborative feel of reading everyone else's efforts and getting ideas for my own from them. I love actually reading the ACD story and finding the bit that really inspires me to write something - I miss this - how am I not making time to do this? 60 flipping words a week - I need to
figure out a way to fix this.
“I was right. That is extraordinarily stupid reasoning.”
Sigh. This is mostly because I am grumpy about the glue project not working out. I have spent a lot of time trying to glue pretty paper to cardboard and have pretty much entirely failed. I am apparently not consoled by the fact that two presents have already gone out and two others were successfully wrapped up this evening - and everything accomplished thus far has been utterly fabulous - I had forgotten that my mad projects are actually fun and wonderful and produce lovely things in the end ... I'm still adjusting ... to a lot of things ... one of which is the fact that I am a creative creature at heart.
Right - if you've actually read all this emotional dreck - thank you - I promise there should be more rational thoughts and fun fic to follow eventually to compensate. :-)
Changing the subject abruptly and completely.
Not so long ago, I began writing stories.
And Sherlock was left with no choice but to trust John. And he did trust him. He trusted John with his life.
I'm just getting back there (hopefully) recently, but I now understand when some authors tell me they don't remember writing a story (which I'd just read and given a rave review) because yesterday I was reading a story I wrote and at turns enjoying it, thinking I really should fix up that paragraph or Sherlock's characterization, and wondering where the hell that line came from.
It wasn’t even technically the anniversary of the day Sherlock hadn’t actually died.
When I first started writing stories I labored over each bit of every one. I read each of them over and over again until I was reading them through without making changes. I loved reading them as much as I loved writing them. The fact that I've posted a story which I am now reading and frowning at is disturbing to me. But - I don't have time to spare to actually fix the fic in question. I mean, technically, I have time for whatever I actually want to do at this point. I could fix the darn story. ... (I could be fixing it instead of writing this entry) ... But I'm supposed to be finishing the interludes and making inroads into the Much Ado fic so that I actually eventually finish that. I thought I was doing well to write the entire first bit before I began posting, but now I feel I should have written the entire thing first.
“Look, Sherlock, I’m fine. You knocked me over. That’s just what you do. I’ll be fine.”
I recently was faced with (and tried not to think about) the fact that I've been attempting to write the June interlude for about two months now. To my mind, that's fairly ridiculous. And, yes, I've moved house. I've had all sorts of rl stuff going on and even more which I should be paying more attention to than I am - but that's just an excuse.
Of course it worked; he was Sherlock Holmes. He was a born actor and a born scene-maker. The hospital staff never stood a chance.
And I've fallen terribly behind on my Sherlock 60s - which depresses me a lot - I love doing them and I love the collaborative feel of reading everyone else's efforts and getting ideas for my own from them. I love actually reading the ACD story and finding the bit that really inspires me to write something - I miss this - how am I not making time to do this? 60 flipping words a week - I need to
figure out a way to fix this.
“I was right. That is extraordinarily stupid reasoning.”
Sigh. This is mostly because I am grumpy about the glue project not working out. I have spent a lot of time trying to glue pretty paper to cardboard and have pretty much entirely failed. I am apparently not consoled by the fact that two presents have already gone out and two others were successfully wrapped up this evening - and everything accomplished thus far has been utterly fabulous - I had forgotten that my mad projects are actually fun and wonderful and produce lovely things in the end ... I'm still adjusting ... to a lot of things ... one of which is the fact that I am a creative creature at heart.
Right - if you've actually read all this emotional dreck - thank you - I promise there should be more rational thoughts and fun fic to follow eventually to compensate. :-)
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no subject
Date: 2012-12-15 07:04 am (UTC)I also feel like this a lot of the time. I have all these projects on the go and nothing is getting finished and ... And then someone posts a comment on something I've done and I remember that I have actually accomplished things even I do seem to exist in a state of permanent flux. I think we just need to be kind to ourselves and remember that just because we don't do everything instantly it doesn't make us bad people! *more hugs*
no subject
Date: 2012-12-15 07:50 am (UTC)You're right - it really is only me pressuring myself about getting things done. I officially give myself a pass. I am now allowed to be ridiculous, in any way I see fit, twice in the next month. This can be actually acting ridiculously (in public or private) or taking another month to write the darn interlude which isn't proving all that difficult to write after all - we shall have a topsy turvy day of misrule as prescribed by kizzia :-)
no subject
Date: 2012-12-15 10:43 am (UTC)So glad you feel better. K x
no subject
Date: 2012-12-16 07:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-16 07:57 am (UTC)