I'm just in a very unsure place, right now, and want to give my inner workings time to realign themselves. Having someone who actually lived through the events I'm trying to relate tell me I'd not be able to do it right for the people who know...but it might work out well enough for those who knew nothing...well, gave me a nice kick in the creative balls. And I need to heal. I've always been wary of POS and gone through times where I could not picture not completing it to where I seriously think I should ask around for someone else to do it because I'm unworthy.
It's just...I can't give it up. It's something I'm meant to do. I know that deep in my soul...and it's slowly working its way through the questions and uncertainties deep in my own dark shadows. But consider this -- it took God, himself, years to get Moses to go back to Egypt to release the Jews...and I got nobody like God backing me up with his superpowers. If I did, I'd be living in Derry, right now, letting the life of it permeate through me and into the story instead of doing all my research in books, websites and movies that always disappoint.
Returning to a project where I've already completed one version...well, I've found it rejuvinates my self-confidence to a surprising extent when I shift the story from one form into another that is totally different. "Lyons' Den" did that, to my surprise. I actually think I made it stronger, tenfold, than it was in script format, because I let it dig and grow and be as dark and chaotic and light as it wanted by giving Daniel and Tad and Van and the others room to explore. Granted, it's a relatively easy story based on a published book and play so I didn't have to do a lot to get the storyline going, so I did start from a better place. That's why I want to practice with "Dair's Window", which is a darker story and one that is completely original with me.
DW has some humor, already, but of the character-type. Marion, Dair's mother, is a pistol and half. Jacob has an off-kilter view of life. Even Wallace's preciseness is a bit funny, at times. But Dair is dour. Well, not so much dour as too limited to his own pain. In LD, I found letting Daniel have his moments of JOY with Tad made it more believable that he'd want to get back together with the SOB, despite the pain he'd been caused. It made him more sympathetic and real, something missing in the script and play versions I wrote. I want Dair to grow in the same way. And I want to build up the darkness of Adam and how he may be using Dair while still loving and needing him.
God, I hope this doesn't sound like I'm trying to justify my shifting focus. It does still boil down to me not being sure enough of myself to get deeper into the story, just yet...because I'm at the point where things have to match up and make sense and be true. And it'll be just me taking the hits if I don't succeed, so you can factor in some fear, as well.
But I won't give up. I hope Brendan understands that. I know full well..."When the stones weep, so will I..."
I'm seeing hints of their tears already. Perhaps by August they'll be in full flow.
It's just...I can't give it up. It's something I'm meant to do. I know that deep in my soul...and it's slowly working its way through the questions and uncertainties deep in my own dark shadows. But consider this -- it took God, himself, years to get Moses to go back to Egypt to release the Jews...and I got nobody like God backing me up with his superpowers. If I did, I'd be living in Derry, right now, letting the life of it permeate through me and into the story instead of doing all my research in books, websites and movies that always disappoint.
Returning to a project where I've already completed one version...well, I've found it rejuvinates my self-confidence to a surprising extent when I shift the story from one form into another that is totally different. "Lyons' Den" did that, to my surprise. I actually think I made it stronger, tenfold, than it was in script format, because I let it dig and grow and be as dark and chaotic and light as it wanted by giving Daniel and Tad and Van and the others room to explore. Granted, it's a relatively easy story based on a published book and play so I didn't have to do a lot to get the storyline going, so I did start from a better place. That's why I want to practice with "Dair's Window", which is a darker story and one that is completely original with me.
DW has some humor, already, but of the character-type. Marion, Dair's mother, is a pistol and half. Jacob has an off-kilter view of life. Even Wallace's preciseness is a bit funny, at times. But Dair is dour. Well, not so much dour as too limited to his own pain. In LD, I found letting Daniel have his moments of JOY with Tad made it more believable that he'd want to get back together with the SOB, despite the pain he'd been caused. It made him more sympathetic and real, something missing in the script and play versions I wrote. I want Dair to grow in the same way. And I want to build up the darkness of Adam and how he may be using Dair while still loving and needing him.
God, I hope this doesn't sound like I'm trying to justify my shifting focus. It does still boil down to me not being sure enough of myself to get deeper into the story, just yet...because I'm at the point where things have to match up and make sense and be true. And it'll be just me taking the hits if I don't succeed, so you can factor in some fear, as well.
But I won't give up. I hope Brendan understands that. I know full well..."When the stones weep, so will I..."
I'm seeing hints of their tears already. Perhaps by August they'll be in full flow.
2 comments:
Don't try to justify your shift in focus (to anyone including yourself). All you can do is sit and listen and write down what you hear, regardless of where it takes you. :)
Thanks, JP...and I know that...I just get lost in my own blankness, sometimes, and this is how I work my way out of it. Besides, I do feel a bit like i was really justifying it to myself since I've been working at this story off and on for years...and years...and making such slow progress. So we'll see where the muse takes me, now.
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