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Interpretation

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January 11, 2013 by jcfarnham

Readers… | Brightweavings Journal

I was directed, by a Mythic Scribes member, to the above article not a few minutes ago, that spoke of writing as a dialogue and it’s really gotten me thinking.

Recently (that being the last few months of 2012) I’ve been in some what of a quandry when it came to writing. I wanted to write, but somehow nothing was working for me. Now, don’t switch off, I don’t mean that in a sappy writers block kind of way, but, for what ever reason, I’d fallen out of love with writing. Let me tell you something, it’s articles like the above that have gotten me going again in 2013.

So. Writing as a dialogue.

We writers and authors cannot possibly expect everyone to engage with our fiction in the same way we did when writing it. That’s important. Everyone write that down.

Even if someone hates you for something you wrote don’t get disheartened. Kay’s example was of a reader refusing to read any further material by him because of a romance between youngters. The same reader (a literature student at university no less) seemed to conveniently forget that Juliet in ‘Romeo and Juliet’ was only twelve.

Opinions change. Books we loved as children, become vile. Books we loved a month ago, become complete dross on the re-read and then perfect again on a further reading.

I think during my dry spell I’ve been subconsciously overthinking things. It may take a year or two for my work to get out there into the aether, yet I’m already dwelling on whether it’ll be well recieved. The obvious answer to my worries is: duh, write something you love and surely someone else will love it.

The world is a big place, and we’d all do well to remember that someone else out there is on our wave length. The tiniest of unwarrented criticisms shouldn’t bring us to our knees. We’re better than that.

Today I wrote something for fun. Fan fiction. And no I’m not ashamed of that. I let go of my inhibitions and discovered I could over come something that’s been bothering me for a while. In my novels I seem to rush through material, and end up having to keep tacking on disasters for my characters to react to, like some horrid pulp. Well, in one of today’s scene I wrote at least 2,000 words on one subject – and it was coherent and didn’t drag on. That may not seem monumental, but it and Kay’s article on the dialogue we engage in with readers has taught me something important:

We can all stand to play with our words. There’s no harm in rambling, no harm in seeing where things lead.

Not truly understanding that has been holding me back. I don’t owe anything to anyone, not yet, so why should I edit myself into speeding through plot points as though some nebulous entity is looking over my shoulder saying ‘don’t waffle on, child!’?

The answer is a giant emphatic, sod off you nebulous entity and let me have fun again.

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