it's a great life, if you don't weaken (matociquala) wrote,
it's a great life, if you don't weaken
matociquala

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the moon is yellow silver, the things that summer brings

Pursuant to a discussion in chat on how our tolerances have changed as we've learned how to tell stories, apparently what happens to people when they learn to write is sort of odd.

One learns that it is actually functionally impossible to get all the details right, and so (while one becomes ever more meticulous about the fact checking in one's own work) when one catches another in a factual error or a continuity goof, one stops worrying about it much. I mean, okay, blow a character's eye color or a detail of police procedure?

Who cares! It's so minor it's not even on the radar, and you've done it a thousand times yourself. You shrug and move on. Nobody can be an expert on everything. (This doesn't stop you from wanting to die when you do it yourself, of course.)

On the other hand? You become an absolute Nazi about narrative structure and characterization and narrative drive.*

Because that stuff? Is important. 

Whether Mary Sue's eyes are green or violet is so far down the page it's hard to even remember to care.

In other news, I should be working on Chapter 26. And I am just too tired to care about that also.

I think that means I'm officially sick. And won't be staying up.

And this blog has gotten really freaking boring. Man.




*Also, if you ask a room full of writers, "Hey, is this a plot hole?" they will have seventeen different explanations for how it could have worked.

Because, um. That is how we have our fun.

That, and solving whodunnits in the second reel based on the camera angles.
Tags: club scene
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