I've been on a spree writing lately - a fine thing to do, considering the amount of debt I have amassed in the past couple of years. New pieces, most revolving around the similar themes - the very same ones that have been such an integral part of my work for the past year or more. Motherhood, pregnancy, loss, etc.
Shocking that these would be at the forefront of my mind, 'eh?
But the reality is, I'm trying to approach similar feelings from various perspectives, various storylines, etc - trying to compile a collection of pieces that best reflect the feelings themselves, rather than stories that specifically pack a certain punch, so to speak.
Then again, according to my thesis reader, punch is what I should be doing. She did enjoy my work, but then challenged me to approach my writing future with bigger, more dramatic scenes. Drop some babies out of windows, so to speak. It's fiction, have fun with it.
And so I tried, in the Not-Yet-Titled piece, to do that. (Although, no babies were harmed in the making of the story...) The piece is back up at The Stealing Season.
And, tonight, I'm in what must be a writer's maze...so far inside myself that I'm wishing I'd left a trail of crumbs to lead me back home. Back to the house, with the husband watching basketball, and the babes sleeping soundly in their little corners. But alas, I'm left here to wander, and I fear another story approaching...
Shocking that these would be at the forefront of my mind, 'eh?
But the reality is, I'm trying to approach similar feelings from various perspectives, various storylines, etc - trying to compile a collection of pieces that best reflect the feelings themselves, rather than stories that specifically pack a certain punch, so to speak.
Then again, according to my thesis reader, punch is what I should be doing. She did enjoy my work, but then challenged me to approach my writing future with bigger, more dramatic scenes. Drop some babies out of windows, so to speak. It's fiction, have fun with it.
And so I tried, in the Not-Yet-Titled piece, to do that. (Although, no babies were harmed in the making of the story...) The piece is back up at The Stealing Season.
And, tonight, I'm in what must be a writer's maze...so far inside myself that I'm wishing I'd left a trail of crumbs to lead me back home. Back to the house, with the husband watching basketball, and the babes sleeping soundly in their little corners. But alas, I'm left here to wander, and I fear another story approaching...
Labels: Writing Life
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