A monstrous waste of time
current location: TCC library
current mood: bored
current song: Whatever rap music this guy next to me is blasting. TURN IT DOWN!
So here I am, sitting in the TCC library. I'm done with classes but I'm waiting around for the next 3 or 4 hours until I have to catch the bus to go off to work at 5. What a monstrous waste of time. Perhaps I should do some homework. I got this essay to write. A process paper...my topic? Most likely how ladies got dressed for fancy parties in the 18th century. Teacher said it was a good topic...but the other half of me wants to write on how to write a romance novel. A friend of mine wrote an essay on that junior year in high school; I think I could do a fair to excellent job on that topic.
On the subject of writing, I wish I could get a novel idea to compound itself in my mind. Rather, I've got a few ideas; the same ideas I've had for years, evolved and reworked and compounded into a more mature and sophisticated version of their original selves. I just can't bring myself to begin the writing. I looked through my saved files on the computer and I found that all I have really is a series of false starts. Different writing styles, different eras, different ways of looking at the same subjects. My characters sort of move and float between universes, which is a good thing, and a bad thing. I need to stop utilizing these "stock characters". I need to develop beyond this and that and the other thing. I just feel kindof...off...if I'm not actiely writing. It can be anything. I just feel this compulsion to sit at a screen and type out details of an imaginary persons life, no matter the insignificance of the events. Yeah, I love those random little off-topic jaunts that authors sometimes write into a story. They really help to establish and grow a character.
That was kindof long and roundabout and not really leading to anywhere in particular. I've got alot to think about.
Maybe more tomorrow.
BTW: I work 5-8 tonight and on Saturday.