I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through

Saturday, October 27, 2007

Indian Writing Sprints

Well, after dinner we did writing sprints to get to the drinking part. After however many sprints I'm now at 3200 words. Not all of these last one will probably stay. And it was uncomfortable writing (which is probably why I might want to cut, I don't know how much the world wants to read about teenage boys having normal spontaneous errection problems). But now it's drinking and Eddie Izzard time.


Anonymous said...

I do find that sometimes I'm not happy with the things I write so quickly... but as I just found out, that's not what you're saying. :)

Steve Buchheit said...

Well, you know, it's helps when we're sitting right next to each other. As you know, Mer, I was haviing more issues with where I was at in the story, not so much the sprints (as that's actually how I write normally, as I am highly distractable). It was more along the lines of the gremlin voices shouting in my head, "don't type this, people will thing you're a perv." You know, but it is a story about sexual awakening, parent loss (ho hum), and how we find our own family and support at some point. Plus, you know, the moon talks and there's a navel in the moon.

Camille Alexa said...

Sometimes those revealing bits are far more interesting than you'd imagine. Not because of the particulars, but because rawness can sometimes impart the ring of truth in fiction.

Steve Buchheit said...

Camille, that's what I'm hoping for. Although, I've never been sucessful in writing sex scenes, you know, except for in my head. There's a part of me that's avoiding syaing he had an erection, or hard on, since he (protag) doesn't really have the words for it, yet. Plus, you know, 13 year old boy seduced by the moon, who is older than your grandmother's grandmother. Kind of a Harold and Really Maude thing.