Today I've tried to write a story. Or I use the term tried loosely because I managed it, sort of. Writing is not different from painting in that one can either start in detail and work slowly from beginning to end, or sketch out the whole thing roughly and then refine. The latter is quite unusual for writers.
Today I wrote the rough plot in a few distinct lines and plot twists. Then I wrote the story with about a paragraph or two for each of those twists. Now I am expanding and totally replacing those paragraphs again. This is more akin to a painting that beings roughly and with each layer becomes more finished, and doesn't seem to be the way most writing is done (although in the visual arts it is quite common, it's really the only way to sculpt, for example).
I have written before but years ago, and not like I am writing the story. Of course, I'm writing now but again this is a train of thought written in one babble. It is of no consequence where this blog entry goes because the information I'm trying to convey IS a babble of thought, but with a work of fiction it is different.
I have also noticed that most writing is prose or verse and rarely does prose have rhythm, and hardly ever rhymes. In my story so far there is a definite rhythm and even rhyme which makes the story rather pleasant to read, but it is not a "serious" story, but a fairytale, so perhaps some of the comic sense that comes from rhyming works better. I'll try and write more tomorrow, perhaps. I am undecided. It would be an ideal day to overpaint the embrace part on Perfection and Necroamoria, but I'm not sure. I have so many things I want to do. In many things in life it's better to choose anything than nothing and just as boredom is a lack of confidence brought on by a lack of direction, so listlessness is a lack of results brought on by a lack of direction. I need to decide.
