Thoughts and Images
I love it when I learn things from my characters. Because it always initially feels like I've created them, made them, invented them, plucked a bit of stuff from the air about me, stuffed random thoughts and images into a frame and made it walk and dance. But, it never fails: after a time of pushing around paper dolls, someone will come to life and say something that I don't understand or do something that I didn't think made sense, and it will all tumble together in a crash of brilliance and luck.
What is best, however, is when you see that your characters are better at living life properly than you are. I've learned this, recently. And I'm coming to terms with what that means.
I've also learned that when I am interested in a character, I just have to flow with it. Don't move on to someone else because I feel guilty for giving one too much time. Let the time flow, let them express themselves, and see where it leads.
I think writers have to be at least one part crazy. We have to be okay sitting on top of buildings and imaging what it might be like to fall. We have to be okay with looking like we are talking to ourselves, when in fact we are talking to a problem character who won't share his problems with us or what possible resolution he is hoping for. We have to be okay turning blind and bleary eyed from staring into text for too long, trying desperately to see clearly into another world.
But I am learning, slowly, to be a real crazy author. One who can take observed life, take false life, take created life and show the truth, the reality, the realness of it. One who can mold a clay boy who will stand and walk and breathe and live on his own one day. One who can touch the depths of human experience and replicate it for the world to see, touch, taste, and comprehend.
I am learning to be that kind of writer. But learning is slow and difficult. And much is being taken.
So little has been given here where my random thoughts reside. So much has been asked of this blog to rest quietly, patiently, eagerly for those thoughts to become random again and express themselves in the strange shapes and colors of before. To sit by and reflect to itself while I share myself with these new friends, new strangers, new lovers.
And it has agreed to wait for me.
So, I will be back. But I cannot say when.
What is best, however, is when you see that your characters are better at living life properly than you are. I've learned this, recently. And I'm coming to terms with what that means.
I've also learned that when I am interested in a character, I just have to flow with it. Don't move on to someone else because I feel guilty for giving one too much time. Let the time flow, let them express themselves, and see where it leads.
I think writers have to be at least one part crazy. We have to be okay sitting on top of buildings and imaging what it might be like to fall. We have to be okay with looking like we are talking to ourselves, when in fact we are talking to a problem character who won't share his problems with us or what possible resolution he is hoping for. We have to be okay turning blind and bleary eyed from staring into text for too long, trying desperately to see clearly into another world.
But I am learning, slowly, to be a real crazy author. One who can take observed life, take false life, take created life and show the truth, the reality, the realness of it. One who can mold a clay boy who will stand and walk and breathe and live on his own one day. One who can touch the depths of human experience and replicate it for the world to see, touch, taste, and comprehend.
I am learning to be that kind of writer. But learning is slow and difficult. And much is being taken.
So little has been given here where my random thoughts reside. So much has been asked of this blog to rest quietly, patiently, eagerly for those thoughts to become random again and express themselves in the strange shapes and colors of before. To sit by and reflect to itself while I share myself with these new friends, new strangers, new lovers.
And it has agreed to wait for me.
So, I will be back. But I cannot say when.
2 Thought(s):
I've wondered before if this is how God feels, looking down at the creation. These beings that God has created and caused to interact with each other, but still have free will. Do we do things that surprise God? Are we able to "teach" God things about himself because of the nature of our characters and requirements of our nature? And does this minimize or somehow negate the omniscience we attribute to this God? Keep struggling. let me know what you find out :)
It is certainly an interesting thought. My initial reaction is to always say no to this idea. That God must be one way and that God, not bound by time, can see all of the events of time in one space. That if God did not have to be God, then God doesn't make sense.
But does that really make sense? Or is that just what I was trained to believe and I only cling to it because I am afraid of what believing otherwise might mean? I find that most often, when I just want to react so quickly, it is often because I am afraid that if I think about it, I'll come to something else.
But I don't know.
If so, is this where we get these feelings from? This association, this adoration, this connection with a thing we create? Is this why we love art, because there is something innate in our nature as spiritual beings that tells us to want it so that we can see more clearly and be more alive?
I don't know. Maybe it's because we are created beings that we feel such a connection with things we create, almost a sort of projection of our own feeling as created beings. Perhaps, it is only our desire to be loved by our creator that makes us love our creations. Or our fear that we aren't loved.
I have to think more on that. I have to be able to think more on that. I have to stop reacting with the right answers. Let me know if you come to a better understanding.
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