Quick note -- I recently did some rummaging through my old writing box (ostensibly to find "When the Battle's Lost and Won", my best piece of writing ever, which I think I'll talk more about later in this entry) and discovered a set of poems written two years ago... one of which appeared to have some sort of music-lyric potential.
I vaguely recall writing this, and how it came out almost entirely without effort, that is, without effort of craft. Obviously there was emotional activity in the vicinity of this poem. ;-)
Sorry attempts at humor aside, that was a rough summer. By the end of August I lost Rachel, Mollie, and Laura, the three most amazing women I've ever known, ever loved. Emotions got tangled, hearts got bruised, battered... and in their own ways they all told me to go away.
Yes. A very rough summer.
Anyway, here it is: Trying real hard to kick the self-pity thing....
It actually attempts to rhyme, and has a nominal meter, I think. It's getting a little late for me to tell these things.
One thing I should explain... the Elsewhere reference is an inside joke, of sorts -- it was an inside joke among my friends back in high school, particularly sophomore year... except that they didn't let me in on the joke until well after, and only sort of then. What I mean in the poem is, I wanted to go back to that time and be let in on Elsewhere... to be with them like I never quite was.
Yeah, it's a sad song.
So, I just brought up "When the Battle's Lost and Won", and said I'd write more about it, only I don't know what, now that I've come to it.
It is probably the most heavily crafted piece I've ever written. It was originally written for a class, and I started with the list that the prof used to define good fiction... I still have the page where it all began, where my scribbles in that first class first took shape around my class notes. Here's that list she gave us:
The other thing she emphasized a lot was, "Write what you know." And thus, rather than writing fantasy or sci-fi or, as in the case of my next-best writing, "A Sudden Twist", a story about a middle-aged man in middle-management, "When the Battle's Lost and Won" is about high school, especially high school theatre.
What amazes me is how many good ideas I have in the margins and notes that haven't yet made it to the final draft. The piece I submitted for class was a rickety linkage of scenes, with notes on what was to come between them. But the notes I have -- on characters backgrounds and additional scenes -- are pretty damn cool. I am reminded why I think of this as my best writing... it has less to do with the current draft and more to do with what it's on the cusp of becoming.
I get wrapped up in re-reading all my notes and the story itself. It's a good story. Damn, I like reading my writing. Is that ego? But even when I've forgotten I wrote a thing, I enjoy it. I think that's because when something is truly mine, it has a rhythm, the rhythm of my mind, and even after a few years, the rhythm still beats in my mind, my soul.
That's a nicer way of describing it rather than calling it ego, don't you think?
My, I'm getting tired. Hard to keep track of what I'm writing about, or more to the point, hard to keep focused on any one track. Choo-choo!
Mmmm... IBC Cream Soda... yummy!
Yeah, I'm a wee bit goofy giddy at the moment. Apologies to the sober in the audience, lol. I should put a hit counter on my diary... I wonder if anybody but the small collection of people I already know about visit this page?
I myself have run into other people's diaries/journals while in search for totally unrelated stuff before, and been caught up in reading a few entries. Usually, though, those diaries had a much more interesting and attractive graphic component.
I wonder if I ought to improve the layout of this thing. I've been meaning to codify my vision of my homepage since forever ago. Maybe I can convince Evan to design my homepage for my Christmas present... and/or my combat page, too... :)
Well, here's hoping, for everybody and everything.
Crappy day today. Better day tomorrow. Hear, hear.