on bad writing…
i think i’ll never be a truly good writer for the same reasons i was never a truly good singer or violinist or anything like that…
i’m…well, i’ve called it lazy…but really it’s that i’m…undisciplined…and…unwilling to go through with anything i don’t think i’ll be absolutely great at.
my writing process is atrocious. there’s no outlining or planning, and doing things sequentially is brutally uncomfortable. what usually happens is that i’m inspired by an emotion, a moment, or an exchange, and i write that. an example would be…rachel and santana making their bet in “yield,” or quinn finding rachel taking down the lucy posters in “all up the seething coast.”
then i twist like a worm on a hook for days trying to fill in the gaps between the moments i’ve written. it’s these in-between words, the dialogue and exposition between the things that make my (and hopefully your) heart clench, that really give me fits.
yesterday was a great day. i posted something i was at least moderately proud of and got some high praise from people i greatly admire, including the following:
“baby i am all over this like rachel berry and blaine warbler would be over a live interpretation of kate bush’s wuthering heights.”
but today i dropped the ball, hard. in an effort to quickly fill in the gaps, i wrote some incredible drivel, shared it, and became so intensely embarrassed that…i’ll admit it…crying may have gotten into the mix at some point.
i think part of the reason i take my writing failures so hard is that writing is pretty much the only thing i’ve ever cared about being good at, and my being able to do it relatively well and share it with others, is one of the main things that helps me get by on having a job i hate and living a life i’m not particularly satisfied with.
so, i ended up scrapping most of the second chapter i had drafted of “every song.” i’ll reboot tomorrow, and hopefully it will be a better day.
