Nobody Knows the Wreck of the Soul the Way You Do
I love sentences. Man, do I love sentences. Plots, I can take or leave, but sentences kill me.
I had a good evening of writing last night. Lately, school's been so much in the way of everything--seeing as how I let myself get all behind and such--that writing's been very much an afterthought. But last night I plowed forward on my Spicy Slipstream Story (now with lots of slipstream, needs more spice), and it felt good. If I can pull this off I'll be so happy. It's structurally rather complicated, but hopefully more on this end than on the reader's. (Although the structural stuff is part of what is supposed to Make the Reader Feel Strange*, so I want it to throw off the rhythm a bit.) But I love doing the work. I love writing down a sentence and loving it and then looking back a paragraph later and seeing that the clauses need to be reversed and then loving the sentence even more and then taking out that unecessary word and splicing these two paragraphs together and dropping that dialogue tag because an action would be so much better there, don't you think and by this time I'm giddy with the rapture of making the words do just what I want them to do. I love words, too, not just sentences. I love amphitheater and infinity and sequence and Backpfeifengesicht (a German word for a face that cries out for a fist in it). OK, that last one's not in the story, but I'm going to find a way to use it somewhere.
Not only did I have a productive evening, but after watching the new "Amazing Race" (not as bad as I was afraid it was going to be, but more on that later) and reading a bit of The Owl, the Raven, and the Dove I fell asleep thinking of a new story which I only just remembered now. It's practically written already. Except for the sentences. Ooh yeah. Gimme some syntax, baby.
* Bruce Sterling