Thursday, April 19, 2007
Earlier this week I had a dream I could fly. It was pretty awesome because it was so authentic - I had very little control over it, and would fly up and down way too quickly, all accompanied by my fear of heights. The "controls," if you will, reminded me of the Peter Pan level in Kingdom Hearts, but still....it was one of the best dreams ever.
My girlfriend has proposed that it could be some sort of sign and that I should go running down the street and jumping to see if I can, in fact, fly, but I've yet to do so. If anything superhuman develops, I'll be sure to let you know.
Needless to say, the rest of that day was completely shot - I spent most of the day thinking about the dream and, ultimately, wishing that it was a little (or a lot) more than just that.
I tend to get this way when an ideal situation, or one at least more interesting than a current set of circumstances, comes into light. This affects me in practical and impractical ways, but in regards to my writing, I've noticed that I'm looking forward to a day down the line when rough draft becomes fourth draft becomes the next project because...I don't know what.
I've heard people use a phrase that drives me insane: that they hate writing but love having written. To me, that's the dumbest thing in the world. If you hate writing, then why the hell are you doing it? I bring it up because I want to emphasize that I'm not in that group. I actually really enjoy the physical act of writing. It can be frustrating if what you're producing isn't any good, but in general, it's something I enjoy doing. Hence, that's why I actually, you know, do it.
However, there must be a relationship that purists and sell-outs alike acknowledge but don't ever talk about: that being the relationship between the work and the product. I imagine you don't hear much about it because it's something that has more layers than an onion. I've always found writing to be refreshing because it's always something you can be doing, as opposed to say, acting, where if you're not actively involved in a project well...then you can do some monologues...by yourself...in your room. Anyway.
Being something that takes so much time and, ultimately, so much effort, it seems ridiculous to write anything that you're either not planning on sharing with others, or not trying to sell. I feel like the moment that thought goes through my head, the joy of writing itself diminishes a bit, and yet, I'm not naive enough to think that the finished product...*sigh*...a.k.a. having written, isn't a gigantic part of the process that I am so dearly fond of.
Spinning around in circles, getting way too far ahead of myself, I ultimately come back to the task at hand - that act of writing and all the collaboration involved in rewriting (what else would you call sifting through all those notes but collaboration? Oh, hell? That too.) Progress is slow but steady, and unless they uncover some evidence to the contrary, Rome (to sound far too much like my father) wasn't built in a day.
But I bet if the Romans could fly...I bet they might have gotten close.
Posted by Joe at 2:43 PM