I am thinking about artistic awareness, now, and the deep sadness I had yesterday when I remembered I never have fiction ideas anymore. And now I'm thinking that, well, there's no room, as you run around like a chicken with it's head off thinking omglatetogetPuppywhat'sfordinnerwhattimeis hispractice? Oh, Iknowwhattoputinthatbrief the PlymouthWhalersantitrustcasefromthe6thcircuithas aGREATQUOTEinthedefensebetterlookatthatdiscoveryand callopposingcounselandthatpartnerinDetroitwantsme tohandleacase and WHERE ARE MY BOOTS andinitialdisclosuresareduetomorrowwhatshouldwe discloseandwhenwillI edit thatmanuscriptIjustgotonStateActionPractice???
I need a boring day job. That's what I need. A boring day job. (Obviously I can't need *no* day job, because of the money and the prescription burden. But *boring*. That's what I need.)
(well, I might have a *lot* of imbalances...but that one in particular is icky)
There's a bookstore around the corner I'd like to own. I could sit in it and people would shop for old books and I'd buy some old books and write things.
All I need is capital and someone with health care to marry me. Oh wait. I'm already married. Okay. All I need is capital and someone to divorce me already and someone with health care to marry me.
(:::slowly dawns on me that what I bring to the table is the salary and the health care, which might not be conducive to finding situation in which I can give up the salary and the health care::::)
That’s pretty much how I operate, using the Warren Ellis method of filling my brain with ideas until they start connecting up of their own accord... but I still haven’t gotten to the Holy Fire and Sex Rays stage. I need to try harder.
I like it very much, too! I dunno, maybe it's the whole harvest time thing, but I was thinking about the collecting process the other day, and so of course it's very interesting to read your thoughts as well.
I'm noticing that the pieces I collect are getting smaller, more fragmentary, the longer I write. I suspect this is a good thing for my style -- I can build more carefully with more delicate pieces, and I have more options. Or, things grow more easily in stuff that's been broken down. Also, they seem to be getting less word-based. A gesture, a color, a changing expression, occasionally a texture, rather than an anecdote, or a line. (Not collecting to copy in either case but as part of the inspiration.)
Hard to say if I'm noticing differently or living differently (richer exposure to some things) or putting things together differently. Or, none of the above. Or, all.
I am thinking about artistic awareness, now, and the deep sadness I had yesterday when I remembered I never have fiction ideas anymore. And now I'm thinking that, well, there's no room, as you run around like a chicken with it's head off thinking omglatetogetPuppywhat'sfordinnerwhattime
hispractice? Oh, Iknowwhattoputinthatbrief the PlymouthWhalersantitrustcasefromthe6thci
aGREATQUOTEinthedefensebetterlookatthatd
callopposingcounselandthatpartnerinDetro
tohandleacase and WHERE ARE MY BOOTS andinitialdisclosuresareduetomorrowwhats
I need a boring day job. That's what I need. A boring day job. (Obviously I can't need *no* day job, because of the money and the prescription burden. But *boring*. That's what I need.)
(well, I might have a *lot* of imbalances...but that one in particular is icky)
There's a bookstore around the corner I'd like to own. I could sit in it and people would shop for old books and I'd buy some old books and write things.
All I need is capital and someone with health care to marry me. Oh wait. I'm already married. Okay. All I need is capital and someone to divorce me already and someone with health care to marry me.
And a pony.
Hmmm....
(:::slowly dawns on me that what I bring to the table is the salary and the health care, which might not be conducive to finding situation in which I can give up the salary and the health care::::)
Hmmm. Oh! Sometimes, I am funny.
I'm noticing that the pieces I collect are getting smaller, more fragmentary, the longer I write. I suspect this is a good thing for my style -- I can build more carefully with more delicate pieces, and I have more options. Or, things grow more easily in stuff that's been broken down. Also, they seem to be getting less word-based. A gesture, a color, a changing expression, occasionally a texture, rather than an anecdote, or a line. (Not collecting to copy in either case but as part of the inspiration.)
Hard to say if I'm noticing differently or living differently (richer exposure to some things) or putting things together differently. Or, none of the above. Or, all.
Anyways, thanks! :)