urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:lyakahime lyakahime lyakahime 2009-01-08T17:42:53Z urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:lyakahime:792 2009-01-08T17:42:53Z 2009-01-08T17:42:53Z I guess there's some things you can't really deny. I used to write a lot. Then I kind of stopped, because as far as I can tell, I'm not <i>quite</i> a writer. I enjoy writing. I flatter myself I have a fairly good grasp of langauge and grammar. And I have experienced the not-quite-joy of being compelled, quite literally compelled, to sit down at a computer and pour words onto the screen until I'm empty and the story glows.<br /><br />But there's a lot more I'm missing. The above works very well when it comes to drabbles or short stories, but when it comes to longer works, something seems to break. I tried writing a long work once- the ubiquitous unfinished fantasy novel that everyone has in their top drawer. Wow, was that a piece of crap. Terrible plotting, awful pacing, secondary characters made up on the spur of the moment... yick! And that was when I decided that I only had part of the gift- not enough. I could still enjoy it as a hobby, I could lend my skills to beta working and cheering on near-sisters who actually move to Seattle to follow their dreams and will one day publish an insanely popular fantasy novel (you go girl!), but I'm not <i>really</i> a writer.<br /><br />So why did I come home from work yesterday, write like a woman posessed, and then spend the rest of the evening spontanously bursting into tears and arguing the meaning of true love with my husband because there's <i>more to what I wrote but it won't come out</i>?!?!! urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:lyakahime:472 2006-08-11T13:40:54Z 2006-08-11T13:40:54Z I guess it got me after all. I wonder if this will restart the journal craze of my middle school days?<br /><br />To Kalanco: this time it's really me, friend away.