Haven't wrote in here in a while I guess. I don't know how long, probably just a day, but it feels like a while.
In other news, I feel the need to write a short story. A flickr inpsired short story, only I can't decide which of my favorite pictures (I have a lot) to write it about. Um, yeah, never mind the fact that if I work on anything right now it should really be my novel-in-progress. I want to do a short story!!
So hopefully I will. Write a flickr-inspired short, that is.
In other news, I have hit on something that is, apparently, difficult for people to do. And that thing is to seperate the writer from the writing when they are very close to the writer. I realized this when my dad, in Georgia, sent me a text message wondering about the father-daughter relationship in my novel.
Ohmygoodness.
Okay I know fiction is supposed to have a grain of truth in it (like all good lies, lol) and that, yes, what I write is somehow intrinsically tied to myself. But really, friendlies, it is all just a string of things my overactive imagination came up with. I get "inspiration," if you wanna be cliche like that (and I do) from songs on the radio or something someone says or a picture on flickr. If I wanted to write about my own life and the people in it, I would. And I do, but that's what personal private journals are for. But no, I want to write about imaginary people with imaginary parents and friends and lives. And somehow I want to make those imaginary people real enough that they don't seem so imaginary anymore, so real that they might be someone you'd be friends with or have a crush on or avoid altogether. But it's just... fiction. False. Lies. Whatever you want to call it.
Here's something. Mostly my characters and the relationships between them are just in my stories because they work. I really don't don't don't want to write about the people I know because that's boring. I want to write about people I don't know, about people I don't have to deal with every day and people who aren't a part of my everyday surroundings. I want to write about the girl who runs away, the friends who reconnect after four years apart, the mystery life of a couple in a found photograph. I want to write about stuff that happens, stuff that could happen, but not stuff that happens to me. I live my life, okay? I don't need to write quasi-fiction about it.
And this is why I'm always wary of letting others - especially people who know me super-well, like my parents - read my stuff. Everyone seems to have the idea that it's my story about me, when really it's just the story I wrote. They look for hidden meanings in words that have nothing to do with them and think I have some "ulterior motive." And that's just really hard to combat. Has anyone else noticed this when they let ones close to them read their writing?