Mah frustrations, let me show you thems
Aug. 16th, 2009 05:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
megwritesMy frustration with the UF!2girls novel has now reached epic levels. I feel like a piano player just banging on the keys making terrible noises come out.
I'm worried about a lot of things, I feel like I'm writing drivel, and I have absolutely no frame of reference right now for what actually sucks and what is just my own hang up.
I keep telling myself that all I can do is finish the damn thing and decide later, when I've had a bit of time and distance to clear my head and get a more objective point. Great novels aren't written, they're edited, right?
It's just I already can see mistakes I'm making, and I wonder if the idea is trite or stupid. I wonder if my characters are two dimensional. I wonder if the research I'm doing on the Chinese bits of the novel are just a thin veil for hurtful appropriation or if I'm getting them totally wrong. I wonder if my skanky race issues are showing through at every turn. I wonder if I'm making my female characters into Mary Sues. I wonder if my prose is clumsy. I wonder if my plot meanders. I wonder if the book is going too slow or too fast.
Like I said, epic frustration. It doesn't help that it's hot enough that we have now turned on the air conditioning in the apartment because it's 90 degrees inside. At least it's not so humid we can't breathe.
The only comforts I have are that I have yet to meet a writer who didn't have these types of frustrations and that I almost always feel differently after I've finished a novel and given it some breathing room. Whatever does suck about it, I can always edit out later.
I'm worried about a lot of things, I feel like I'm writing drivel, and I have absolutely no frame of reference right now for what actually sucks and what is just my own hang up.
I keep telling myself that all I can do is finish the damn thing and decide later, when I've had a bit of time and distance to clear my head and get a more objective point. Great novels aren't written, they're edited, right?
It's just I already can see mistakes I'm making, and I wonder if the idea is trite or stupid. I wonder if my characters are two dimensional. I wonder if the research I'm doing on the Chinese bits of the novel are just a thin veil for hurtful appropriation or if I'm getting them totally wrong. I wonder if my skanky race issues are showing through at every turn. I wonder if I'm making my female characters into Mary Sues. I wonder if my prose is clumsy. I wonder if my plot meanders. I wonder if the book is going too slow or too fast.
Like I said, epic frustration. It doesn't help that it's hot enough that we have now turned on the air conditioning in the apartment because it's 90 degrees inside. At least it's not so humid we can't breathe.
The only comforts I have are that I have yet to meet a writer who didn't have these types of frustrations and that I almost always feel differently after I've finished a novel and given it some breathing room. Whatever does suck about it, I can always edit out later.
