writing a children's story and a morbid realist story one after the other in two days was seriously taxing. it was just my luck that both were due in the same week.
some of my friends liked "do polar bears dream?" it was so effing hard to write. i don't think in rhyme, and in many places, i feel like the rhymes were pilit, for lack of a better word.
trying to look at the story from another vantage point got me to thinking about the implications of rey's final act, his curtain call. rereading the last few paragraphs reminded me of the feeling i had after watching the wrestler and unintentionally, i was inspired by it. (and i didn't even like the movie all that much)
more often than not, the writers i admire do inspire some of my writing, whether it's the style or theme. or maybe i gravitate toward characters who are passive, regular people, much like murakami's regular guys who are just a tad strange, or who find strange things happen to them. i'd love to have some of jeanette winteron's lyricism, too. she can write whatever, her language is so beautiful anyway. or maybe sometimes i channel camus or lethem, or the poetic tragedy of ondaatje.
and if asked, why a tragic/morbid/depressing turn of events for the protagonist? honestly, i don't know. i've always had a different voice when i write my poetry or fiction. i don't write happy endings, or neatly tie up loose ends. heck, i wouldn't even go as far as to say i write happy stories/poetry at all. i don't know, perhaps the tragedy of the human condition always makes for more interesting material.
if i were to describe my inclinations in this rather self-indulgent post, i'd say that as a writer, or an aspiring one, that i whisper more than scream, i stay matter-of-fact, occasionally eloquent if possible.
so much more is said when we think of unshed tears.
p.s.
btw, thank you for the feedback, friends. :) keep 'em coming.
