Walk and Plot a Lot · 9:56am Oct 19th, 2020
Distance from a subject deepens one's appreciation for it. Due to one's separation from a process, or in no longer having an object that, the changes in your life, good or bad, cause you to reflect on that thing's nature. This applies to all. Maybe you've lost a few friends and, while remembering the good times bears the potential to sting, your overall self, at least your mental, is far better for it.
Distance allows you to feel the changes instead of being hypothetical.
The same is true with writing or drawing or whatever your art or craft of choice might be. Sometimes we are bound to it for the sake of being bound, citing love and passion despite having none; rather a strange compulsion ties us to the gig.
This may very well be a short blog though, as I've come to learn, there is nothing wrong with those. I would like to share my experiences with writing and the drumming of storytelling in my head. It's my hope the writing thereof allows me to work something out.
If not.
A blog of rambles can easily be ignored.
I'd gotten back to work on a project that focuses on Princess Celestia being gigantic, written for one easily guessed and, since it's written for one easily guessed, it was a complicated process at first. I strove to change that. Instead of being written to impress someone appreciated, it focused rather on being a tale of great fun.
Problem was that weight was still there in the background as it is in writing all my works. People tend to think it gets easier to write as you go along—especially for the prolific. Nay. It was easier to write at the start than it is now.
Once you have written a certain amount for your psyche to establish an aspect of yourself as a writer, the desire to be a good one, for whatever reason, comes into play. One realizes what good and bad writing is and when they are doing either. Keeping to standard is present.
To do a good job—needed.
Getting into the writing is the hardest part of the job. Once you're in the thick of it, however, you can usually bear all terribleness. It's as hard for me to start today as it was yesterday as it was a month ago as it was a year ago. Maybe the prose and the style and the method changes. The woes of starting, however, never go away.
And that's okay.
It doesn't get easier but, if you persist, you become stronger. You're able to bear that pain and woe and shove across the winds of resistance. Though it's foolish to assume you'll always be strong. Weakness comes and writing impossible. Even if you can force yourself—will you enjoy it still?
I cannot claim the best diet when it comes to writing. It should be done five days a week at the minimum to at least a thousand words a day. I tend to do six at over 5K. It's the number that currently feels right for me.
Does taking more days off equal a greater consistency in writing? Can you keep the process going, non-stop, in writing the right amount for the right amount of days off? Maybe. Some people can work out five days a week fine without breaks for years. Though comparisons like that aren't the kind you invest stock on.
Every day this week, I found that I detested the notion of writing and, on starting, thought it wise to quit. However I kept along to reach my count as a goal gives you a place to go. Once getting into the thick of it, on all days, I enjoyed writing.
I have to draw that none crave to start writing but, on getting inside the heart of it, are usually fine with pressing on. Thus it must be forced. Many things are like this. Working out and swimming. Going to swim classes bestowed butterflies in my stomach. On making the first dive and adjusting to the pool's coolness, however, I was swimming laps and ready for the match.
A lot of good things, although they are work, can be considered enjoyable work. Nothing to the pleasure of playing games and lazing about though, at the same time, rewarding and improving in the ways the previous aren't.
Enjoyable work is not easy to start and, because of that, we need to force ourselves too for, once into it, we enjoy it and it is good for us—or that's the lie, sometimes, we need to tell. Having a routine or goal helps in this regard.
It should be understandable, then, anything related to this work, in proximity to it, tends to be silenced. In thinking or plotting out a story close to the place of writing, your mind will cease that effort, knowing it will lead you to work, which you hate to start, and thus not work as well.
I was about to work today when, suddenly, I decided to go for a walk first. Took the dog and went for a long one. Didn't think I'd think. Rather needed air from spending two days locked inside. In an instant I started the process of processing the storytelling of my latest story.
What will happen next and how many times can I refine it before I get back home?
The ideas bounced and stack and smacked me at once. The scene I am to compose after this is of brilliance—at least it seemed that way in my head. So much greatness happened back to back, evoking things inside of me, all the signs of the matter becoming well.
And I felt the thirst to write.
What was happening in my head was so good, so full and juicy that, with great restraint, I didn't turn around and dash to begin typing. The walk went well and the next chunk of the story had been worked out. However, as you might have guessed, on reaching my home, on the first boot inside, all drive to write had gone and died.
I don't feel like working.
It was at that moment when the matter clicked. Why the best ideas come from walking outside. Anything close to your station of work is denied for, in the second next, you could be forced to write it. But thinking in a place impossible for you to write? It all becomes unbidden.
Because we cannot write, our minds, allowed to be creative and still lazy, wash us in everything needed. They make us thirsty to write again because it knows we can't. However, once getting close to home, all these processes, as you may guess, shut back down again.
For this reason I have given up pacing and plotting in my room or kitchen for, as ideas do come, they are forced and never as fresh. Going for a walk auto-starts the process where pacing does not. Plus. Fresh air and a little exercise is an added plus to it all.
You still have to deal with the pains of getting started. But everything is already on the mainframe. Worked out and enjoyed which is the greatest pleasure to the writer. Once you get into the thick of it, then, the overall process becomes a joy.
So go for a walk to plot your stuff off and, once you're done, be ready to force yourself to go to lands previously visited in your head.
How goes it lads and ladies and some other third thing?
It's been a while since I've written a proper blog. Or something with the intention of being a blog. This burnt mind is not so kind as to play the part of a teacher or be dramatic. My earlier blogs were more lively. Jumping around and pulling from multiple sources and acting as though it were a show on a stage or a class in session.
Maybe I'll go back to that once the heart is placed back into the game.
I've been doing alright as of late. Hooked on a game called GTFO and sank half of my life-span into it. Writing has seen to a gay story for Duke and a straight narrative for someone better left a mystery. Slowly I am drawing again. Not well. But at it again.
Life around me is boring as usual. No causes to go out and nothing beyond the walls of my room to look forward to. Just writing. And drawing. Playing and the like. Meeting new people from the GTFO server has allowed me to feel a bit like a leader and a unique character again.
I forgot I had a bit of stardust until I started glittering for other people.
And I'm streaming again! Pulling in a few more than 4 viewers—so that's nice.
I still don't have a good perspective on myself but, for the most part, seemed to be doing well despite that. I don't know what I crave of myself. To be friendly and kind or a dick all the time. Perhaps there's a balance between those two.
Now I'm just talking silly.
I better get back to work at this point.
Be well to do well.
And catch you... next time!
~ Yr. Pal, B ~
nice
This for real kills the man. I have written paragraphs in my head and some of them are still up there, but I don’t write much anymore because I’ve grown a little tired of it.
I agree that it feels a lot like working out; you don’t want to start doing it but you feel good having finished it. I’ve been enjoying other ways to keep myself mentally active these days though, mostly sudoku and other puzzle games.
I mean I’m still shit at sudoku but at least it’s enjoyable.
5387424
Minesweeper for days
5387425
Oh I fuckin suck at minesweeper. I’m probably just gonna reinstall The Witness and beat Portal again instead. I beat Portal 2 with my friend and it makes me want to go back to the other one.
5387427
Muy bueno.