My birthday is Sunday and I feel old.
The semester ends in two weeks. I have to finish three papers and my book by that time. Next semester is my last one in college and I hope to have found a publisher by then. I'm scared sleepless. I don't get scared about much. Talking to pretty girls in hopes of romance, sure. Coming to Wales, not really. Jumping off a ledge 60 feet in the air, only briefly. Thinking about my book's success? Three nights this week I fell asleep at 6 am after turning in around midnight.
But to quell my fears, I've gone back and edited finished sections of the book while I prepare ideas for the newest scenes (1 long one to finish then updating one I've already written and maybe tacking on an epilogue and DONE! SCARY!). And the work I did over the summer is some of my best writing. Things suddenly made sense. I was organized and diligent. I practiced and read every day. And I've gotten back into the swing of things with my latest chapters. I've been doing good, so I was no longer afraid of failing.
I am afraid of finishing it though. It's a scary thought. Once it's done, it's like being a grown up. I'm still a kid. Anyone still in school and supported by their parents is a kid. That's me! I don't want to grow up and pay bills and worry about insurance and my declining health. That's all grown ups do, too. And if they don't, then they worry that they're not grown-up yet when everyone else seems to be.
Maybe that's not true, but it's how I see it and I'm submitting it as truth.
And as I've gotten to the end of the book, I realize that I don't know this characters motivation! It's always seemed perfectly logical based on his personality to act like this towards Ben. But he's an antagonist/friend. He needs some "complex" motivation (I don't mean something that can be explained in a monologue, but something that has been hinted at for the entire book and is revealed in a very short argument between him and Ben. But I haven't pinpointed how to explain that in an argument. It's one of those things that people don't normally talk about and if they do, they sound whiny and that's not this character. He's foul-mouthed, jealous of Ben, has OCD, teased by his friends as part of the typical high school experience, abused and used by other students as part of the typical nerd experience. He's gone slightly mad and is frustrated that his hard work hasn't brought him any closer to "greatness" than Ben's natural gifts.
And to fix this I'm reading through the other scenes that mention him and this conflict, but it's all described by Ben. Ben's not in his friend's head. Ben is stuck in his own and completely ignorant of how other people feel. And that's how I've written every character. I've described people I've seen. I don't know what their real motivation is. I don't think half of them know it.
I have to be a psychologist, a physicist, a painter, a math student and a storyteller. So much work. And I'm not complaining about the work. I'm complaining about my inability to figure it out instantly and the frustration that comes with struggling through it.
P.S. Were you bothered by the lack of a close parenthesis? :) Now you have to wonder. Is that a smiley or a closed parenthesis? The world will never know.
The semester ends in two weeks. I have to finish three papers and my book by that time. Next semester is my last one in college and I hope to have found a publisher by then. I'm scared sleepless. I don't get scared about much. Talking to pretty girls in hopes of romance, sure. Coming to Wales, not really. Jumping off a ledge 60 feet in the air, only briefly. Thinking about my book's success? Three nights this week I fell asleep at 6 am after turning in around midnight.
But to quell my fears, I've gone back and edited finished sections of the book while I prepare ideas for the newest scenes (1 long one to finish then updating one I've already written and maybe tacking on an epilogue and DONE! SCARY!). And the work I did over the summer is some of my best writing. Things suddenly made sense. I was organized and diligent. I practiced and read every day. And I've gotten back into the swing of things with my latest chapters. I've been doing good, so I was no longer afraid of failing.
I am afraid of finishing it though. It's a scary thought. Once it's done, it's like being a grown up. I'm still a kid. Anyone still in school and supported by their parents is a kid. That's me! I don't want to grow up and pay bills and worry about insurance and my declining health. That's all grown ups do, too. And if they don't, then they worry that they're not grown-up yet when everyone else seems to be.
Maybe that's not true, but it's how I see it and I'm submitting it as truth.
And as I've gotten to the end of the book, I realize that I don't know this characters motivation! It's always seemed perfectly logical based on his personality to act like this towards Ben. But he's an antagonist/friend. He needs some "complex" motivation (I don't mean something that can be explained in a monologue, but something that has been hinted at for the entire book and is revealed in a very short argument between him and Ben. But I haven't pinpointed how to explain that in an argument. It's one of those things that people don't normally talk about and if they do, they sound whiny and that's not this character. He's foul-mouthed, jealous of Ben, has OCD, teased by his friends as part of the typical high school experience, abused and used by other students as part of the typical nerd experience. He's gone slightly mad and is frustrated that his hard work hasn't brought him any closer to "greatness" than Ben's natural gifts.
And to fix this I'm reading through the other scenes that mention him and this conflict, but it's all described by Ben. Ben's not in his friend's head. Ben is stuck in his own and completely ignorant of how other people feel. And that's how I've written every character. I've described people I've seen. I don't know what their real motivation is. I don't think half of them know it.
I have to be a psychologist, a physicist, a painter, a math student and a storyteller. So much work. And I'm not complaining about the work. I'm complaining about my inability to figure it out instantly and the frustration that comes with struggling through it.
P.S. Were you bothered by the lack of a close parenthesis? :) Now you have to wonder. Is that a smiley or a closed parenthesis? The world will never know.
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