Spacer June 1, 2005
  | Asymmetry | Archive | June 1, 2005 |



I don't particularly feel like writing this morning, but it occurs to me that the point of these rambles has become lost over the past weeks--that rather than a writing exercise they are becoming more a sort of livejournal with delays, and I feel I should do something about that (futile though the effort may be, since next starting week I am going to be spending a lot more time working in Cambridge, and I won't have time to do this anyway, unless of course I take the train and write something on the way in, and upload it some time later... I did find a nice freeware Windows FTP program yesterday, out of necessity as I had to put some online help for the Verano project up where the clients could get to it). So this ramble is going to be the old-fashioned, stream of consciousness, write for fifteen minutes sort. The fact that my brain keeps trying to pause and think tells me that this sort of exercise is in fact necessary.

The train concept has merit. It seems like ages since I really wrote anything (other than software documentation, that is). I go to sleep at night thinking about novels, but during the day it's difficult to find time to work on them. And now, of course, as I mentioned to Dave a couple of days ago, there is additional pressure, since if I have an hour to work on my novel, don't I have an hour to write something that I would get paid for? Life-work balance becomes a tad more challenging under the circumstances; laziness may end up being my saving grace there, at least insofar as keeping myself from working too hard... but I probably won't get any non-paid writing done that way, either. A conundrum.

I do occasionally console myself that there is still the game, which means I am doing some sort of creative output every week (most weeks). Though even there I frequently wonder if I'm putting enough effort into it, if it's lost its spark. People are still playing, with general evidence of enjoyment, and I still find it fun and challenging, but again... time. The bugger. Gaming, I feel compelled to add, really is a marvelous hobby. When life gets you down and the pressure seems to come from all angles, putting your feet up and spending fifteen minutes reading about new and interesting monsters you can set against your players somehow seems a very clean form of distraction. I suppose a lot of people find similar solace in physical games, and more people just turn their brains off and watch television or something (I have even stopped pining for Iron Chef, it's been so long since we watched TV). I have always liked coming up with plots, places, and people; the interactive aspect lends extra interest to the process. Right now, for example, a major fight is starting. In a novel, I probably wouldn't bother writing much about it because I know how it ends, and in that context, how the characters think about it afterwards is probably more important than anything they do during it. In a game, every blow and bit of magic is of potential consequence.

Fortunately, I'm out of time, because I think that was really incoherent.

| Top |


Except where otherwise noted, all material on this site is © 2005 Rebecca J. Stevenson