22/5/10
Here goes some more of this unpublished blog that ends where it begins and only exists within my computer.
I have read many books. And now that I am older and have experienced life I find that themes and methods are repeating. I am now finding plots predictable and expecting to be surprised; just like when I watch a new movie. That is why I no longer watch hollywood movies- because the themes are always the same and the methods are predictable.
And then there are the gems- the ones that blow you away and make you wonder at the skill of the writer, or the director. I mean, really, classics are classics because that was the first time that someone thought of a way of making a movie or writing a story. Take psycho-the first time that someone took a story and made horror by insinuating suspense and it has become a classic for that reason. I mean they are brilliant! To be able to create something where nothing existed before. To create Middle Earth where there was a blank page.
I wonder if there is such a novel or story within me. And I guess that is why I sometimes become discouraged because I don’t want to see a method or form of writing on the page that I have seen before- I want to stretch myself and be original. I want to blow myself away. And if I don’t, then I shouldn’t bother.
I have just finished a book by Tracy Chevalier. Her story was pretty basic-a coming of age story about two girls growing up in the early 1900’s. I loved the way she told the story, though. I loved the way every character in the book had a very distinct voice. And the characters just flowed off the page- you could understand what was going through their minds and why- even when you didn’t necessarily agree with them.
I love Joanne Harris’ writing as well for the same reason- I love the style that she has chosen to tell her stories- there is always a supernatural flavour that permeates the entire environment- meshing fantasy and reality together to create an alternative reality that only exists in her books.
I would like to create like that. I want my readers to look at my worlds and be astounded by the richness of description and I want them to be able to identify with my characters and believe that they exist. I want to make them laugh and cry as well. And I certainly don’t want Hollywood sentimentality and fiction that is predictable. That would just be shameful enough to keep my writing private for the rest of my life.
And I guess I don’t publish something like this on the web for everyone to see because I am still afraid of being judged. I guess it is the same reason that I don’t sing in public despite the fact that I have a passable voice and a good sense of tune. I am afraid that people will be underwhelmed. It is that fear of being ordinary. I want to be extraordinary in my writing- or not at all.
So in my writing of my novel I want to convey what it is like being a generation Xr. Except I am not quite an X, I am an XY! I want to let people know what it is like to be a woman in the 90’s and 2000’s. To need to be so many things for so many people and find that everyone divorces, every one dies and nothing is permanent. Our lives are blown out like candles in one minute and there are so many of us on this earth that sometimes you look up at the stars and feel like one of them- part of an infinite plan and yet far from it. So anonymous.
It is true that we are very anonymous these days- there are no real communities as there used to be, unless you belong to a church, and the few friends that we manage to make are just as busy as we are trying to belong to something; or making money to make ends meet or “working on their marriage”- whatever that means.
And one damn week merges with the next, and everyone needs antidepressants to live on in this century. If you are not killing yourself with cigarettes, you do it with alcohol or you simply eat your way to diabetes and heart disease. We are so trapped by the ideal that our parents set: you need to own a home and have wonderful children who will have great opportunities. And a wonderful fulfilling relationship that makes the journey worthwhile. But not only that, but a woman must also have a fulfilling career which is just as respectable as her husbands’, and somehow manage not to wreck her marriage nor neglect her kids in the process. It is a bit like making crème caramel without any fat. Guess what? It turns out bland, boring, and you just want to eat 3 serves instead of the one fattening one. In other words, it doesn’t work. The reality is that we haven’t yet learnt in this generation that doing all those things and doing them well is impossible. And if you think that so on so seems to make it look easy then there is something you definitely are missing about so and so’s life or there is something that so and so is definitely not telling you. Because honey, it is impossible without prozac. Or the neurotic side of her comes out when she is home and the doors are all closed, or she is a religious fanatic who hands over her life to some supernatural power that she cannot be certain even exists and manages to let someone else have the responsibility if her life doesn’t work out- because guess what? It must be God’s will.
Which brings me to why I am such a cynic. To wishing that I didn’t think about all this stuff and simply went through life oblivious. To be content. To simply lie back and consider that I have done everything I was meant to- simply be satisfied with my lot. There are women I know who are like that. And I watch them with an admiration which is tainted with pity. I wish I was like that, but man, life would be so boring if I was. To simply be done. No more to do, no more to achieve. Maybe just renovate the kitchen one day. And after that, to be wholly satisfied in the knowledge that your job on earth is done. My curse is to never be satisfied, never be done. Always thinking that maybe I could achieve more, move the bar higher because the bar has been reached and once you do, you might as well lie down and die. I should pity myself!!!!
To be like animals- to survive the day, to live day to day hoping not to get eaten.
Do you think that we are like this because we have too much time on our hands? Is philosophy for the rich who don’t have to catch their next meal? Perhaps. Maybe if I had to be up with the sun and preparing soil to grow my food I wouldn’t be wondering if I may ever be a published author. We think too much, that is for sure.
Nevertheless, I am giving it a try. I am trying to buy my own home, bring up 2 happy and well adapted kids, have a good job and a satisfying life in the background. Viva Marissa!