Aaaah. Major music paper number one complete. Also West Hartford concert (that was fun I had a ton of solos!! Thanks Carole Ann! <3) Now I only have to read Othello by Tuesday, apply for a position on the paper for next year, drop off my study abroad application, and read my sociology.
But the good news is most of that can wait until later. Once I get more done, I am GOING TO WRITE!!! This is a miracle. I have time on my hands. Wow.
While I was reveling in my vacant day, I got up at a leisurely hour and took my time in the shower, much to my suitemate’s chagrin. I.E. – “HOW CAN YOU TAKE A HALF AN HOUR IN THERE?!?! AREN’T YOU PRUNED!?!?!”
Well yes, Mary, I was. Did I care? Absolutely not, until she helps clean the bathroom I will take my sweet time … just kidding! Love you, Mare.
I do tend to take long showers, but for a very good reason, as you my fellow literary scholars will understand. I get my best ideas in the shower. It’s almost as if they stream out of the spout and seep into my brain through the water while I wash my hair. I am loathe to force myself out of the shower when I’m on a roll figuring out a detail for my story or novel. I create the best dialogue there (mostly because I actually talk it out under the guise of singing or humming; it has the double benefit of working out a kink in the story and having my roommates tell me DAYUM girl you can sing).
I work out difficult pieces there and this particular morning I figured out how Rescue Me is going to end … tragically. Alas Laura and Thomas are not destined to live happily ever after together. Their fate hung precariously in my hands and this day I tipped it one way and not the other, deciding concretely how their lives would play out. I had been struggling for some time to see if there was a way, unfortunately it is not meant to be. It was becoming far too intricate and complicated which made the story itself seem unbelievable.
I wanted so badly to give them their dreams because (Aspiring Novelist now bears her soul) I love them. Not the petty “OMG I LOVE YOU” girls say to their friends, but real love. They’re probably the people I’m closest to in the world. They’re the only ones who truly understand me. Yes, yes, I know they’re not real and the reason they understand me is because I created them that way. It doesn’t matter. Laura is part of me and if Thomas were a real man I’d take him to the church right now.
Characters are truly intrinsic to writers. Even to readers. For instance, one of my friends whom I’ve known for close to sixteen years so wisely articulated once, “I love Jane Austen. Her characters are my friends. This is because I have no real ones.”
Yes, that was a giant joke, but part of it rings true. Sometimes people in books or in your head are better or easier to deal with than real people.
Writers also have the ultimate weapon to seek revenge: the pen is mightier than to sword. It works, baby, it’s how I get over guys. I’ll have a real life experience, it will go down the drain, and I get over it by writing someone like him who just broke my heart into a story and voila! I’m over it. It actually does work. Try it.
For example, I didn’t get over my high school sweetheart until I write him into Becoming Mrs. Kennedy. I couldn’t move on from mt freshman year debacle until I wrote him into Damn Brits. And this year … well I’m still trying to find a way to enact vengeance on He Who Shall Not Be Named.
I am not vindictive, I promise. You roll with the punches life throws at you and turn your bad experiences into something good. I mean come on, no story is complete without an antagonist. I think every writer can relate and appreciate this sentiment: