Ever seen the Chevy Chase movie "Funny Farm"? There's a scene where he sits down at his typewriter to start work on his novel. He types the word "The" and then stares at it for a while. That's where I've been for the last couple months. I'd carve out some time in my schedule for writing, sit down at the keyboard, and write "The".
Well, yesterday, I wrote seven pages all in one shot. I'm hoping to finish out the chapter today (no promises, of course).
So, who gets the credit for breaking my writer's block?
WriteByMySelf. Yesterday, I read Alone With Myself for the first time. Whoa. I know WBMS reads this, so I'll just say it here: That was incredible. If that was published tomorrow, I'd go out and buy the hardcover version, just because it deserves a space on my bookcase (and that's valuable real estate). Seriously, if there's anyone reading this who hasn't read AWMS yet, go do it!
Immediately after finishing it, I pulled out the ol' Horseless Typewriter (laptop) and hammered out half a chapter. Ever have that happen, where you read something that's so good that it makes you want to write?
On another note, I found a chunk of a really old draft of Laika. Not the first draft (which was written in third person), but close. Back then, Dixie was a guy, and I was planning on him being the main love-interest (Nick hadn't been...uh..."conceived" yet). Consider it a "deleted scene". It's nothing special, but I thought it was kind of cool to look back on what I was originally planning, compared to how things turned out.
Days are divided into three sections: School, Not-School, and Sleep. School is divided into five sections: four classes and lunch. Each of those four classes is divided into varying numbers and lengths of sections, such as note-taking, busy-work, lecture, and connect-the-neck-freckles-on-the-guy-in-front-of-you Rorschach tests. It may seem like having your days segmented like that would lead to a rigid, sterile kind of existence where nothing changes and every day seems to blend in with the next with no real feeling of accomplishment. That?s because it does.
I took my usual place near the back of the bus, across the aisle from Dixie Wyzorick. I?m not really into giving people titles, but I guess you could say that Dixie?s my best friend. Really, he?s just about the only guy I hang out with consistently, so he kind of defaults to best friend status.
As usual, had a book on his lap, his pencil scratching away at a sheet of paper. For someone known to be part of the ?intellectual? crowd, he always waited until the last minute to finish homework. He looked up long enough to give me one of those male nods of acknowledgement ? that upward, ?I?m a dude, you?re a dude, no need for any verbal communication,? kind of nod ? which I returned before turning to the window. Another bus ride in silence. Nothing new about that.
"I gave hip hop to white boys when nobody was lookin'.
They found it locked in a basement when they gentrified Brooklyn.
I left a list of instructions, an MPC and a mic,
My sci-fi library, and utensils to write."
-"Grippo" by Saul Williams