(no subject)

Hey, look, I'm practically a celebrity. One of those weird-arse ones who is always being reported as having sold their souls to by goat's milk, or having skiied down the side of Mr Kosciosko naked (yes, that's it, pick a mountain you can't spell. Brilliant idea!), but still, it's fame of a kind!

...the kind that's usually referred to as "notoriety", I suspect.

"...You remember when you were in Cornvall, when you were at the monastery, there was an old shepherd with whom you used to talk?"
"Good Lord! Timpkins!"
"Yes. I was one of his sheep."
-Blackadder II, Chains.

By the way, Chris, I found Guilty Pleasures (Christ that sounds like a bad romance novel/erotica). It was, as predicted, under a pile of books.

(no subject)

I'm still pissed at my piece I did for the workshop.

Because it was bad.

That's not me fishing for complements, that's me actually being honest about my own work. I was not happy with it in any way, shape or form. And I don't like putting that sort of shit into a public forum which doesn't know me or what I'm capable of. I can't do that with my writing. It's too important to me.

I like every strong impression I elicit with my writing. I loved the fact that I scared Liam and Nat with the torture scene from the novel I'm still frickin' writing. I love it when I'm happy with something I've written (like Adam's dream sequence from the aforementioned bloody sounds-like-I'm-being-pretentious wish-I-could-just-finish-the-fucker-already novel). I love coming back to something I've written well, and having that warm glow that comes from the distance you develop to a piece, and realising it's yours, and you did well.

The problem with your own work is that you can't get distance from it to the same way someone else can. Often with Wackiness, I have to run a script by Nat, because I've gone through it in my head so many times, and rewritten it and tweaked it, that it's become too familiar. I'm no longer sure that it's funny.

I'm going to email Jennie, and ask her if I can workshop again. Because dammit, 19 is far too late to start to develop a neurotic inner critic when it comes to writing.