Thursday, December 16, 2004

drafts

You know, there are things I've written or started writing, which were so clear and easy to narrate the first few days of their existence, but which faded away for whatever reason during the next few days. And they bug me from afar, that i've been unable to get back to that point, that state of mind in which they were so breezy and delicious and natural. And yet I try and try and haven't yet given up although it's been years, and I've wondered why it is that I can't will myself back to the natural state in which they came so easilly to me. I've thought of this curious puzzle a couple of times to myself; sometimes constructively and sometimes not. And I like to believe that other writers are working on the same problem, and that many of the phenomena like NaNoWriMo are a direct reaction to that humanly problem, whatever it is... It was strange, I was turning the corner from the off-ramp into my hometown of fox, and suddenly a new thing dawned on me: the question; what is it exactly that you're writing there, in that project, as opposed to the thing you're *trying* to write, and can't? I hope this small item makes some sort of sense, the same inexplicable and hollistic sort of sense it made to me, when i turned the corner and ran straight through a cloud of it, on my way home. I cannot tell if it makes no sense or not, at this moment, to anyone's mind but my own; but I can tell you that to explain with any thouroughness its meaning, to any who might not understand it in so many words, would take years of dense work and many pages of intense examination... A task which I may encounter in the future, after I've had a number of experiences like this. I cannot say whether my problem about the unfinished draft is solved, by that burst of intuition; but it gives me a new perspective on it and that makes me feel so much better that it feels as though i've made progress.

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