Sunday, 08/14/05 - 10:18 pm.
I don't understand how people can sit and write a book. I know it takes a lot of time, but at least they have the idea, they just have to develop it.
My problem? I think in drawings. I think of a story and it automatically shows in my head as a stick man. There goes my story. I can't even stretch it to make two paragraphs. I tell stories in one paragraph. It drives me nuts. Maybe I wasn't born with the gift.
I have about 60 pages in a Word document, that contain a diversity of paragraphs. I liked the writing, but they have no connection to each other, and I can't write a story around those old scraps. So I'll have to delete them, even though I highly like some of the words. I need a fresh start.
This day has gone by quickly, even though I hate sundays. I didn't go out, except when I took Frog for a walk, and even that is not considered going out. I'd planned on start this new idea I had, but I failed miserably. And I can't stay up late trying to get inspired, I must get up early tomorrow, to go and register all my subjects for this semester.
I need a consistent idea. I need Simeon. Everything was different before I published my book (in case you wonder, I've sold like 10% of all the copies, but I didn't expect any more...and it's just a bunch of really short stories). I felt no pressure. Since 4th grade, until second year in college (last year) I wrote and wrote, absolutely sure that no one would ever see my writings about Simeon, and half-disappointed for that, because I thought he was brilliant. No one is pushing me, but it feels different now. I can't sit and fill another sketchbook with cartoons anymore.