February 20, 2013 by musehick
Today my writing mainly consisted of inching some of my stories forward. World building is fun – I have said it before and I am sure I will say it again, but seeing something grow and become fuller and realer, and then start to breathe on its own, is something special.
A lot of the sites I was returning to had a packed sketch of a world that kind of resembled the idea of primordial soup that is just waiting around for some kind of spark to get the whole game rolling along. Adding direction to something is an interesting thing, because even if it is just the first step onward from a handshake you are making a choice for your characters that will lead to their happy ending or their inescapable death. This has always been one of my favourite things about fiction – I get to call the shots on all that shit. Writing fact-based stories I can sense, must be a totally different discipline … one I am becoming increasingly interested in.
I have loved westerns since reading my dad’s Roy Rogers Annuals, and OK comics I think they were called. My dad also had a lot of those little one story Western novellas, and he watched Westerns most of anything that he watched, so I got my education in those kinds of stories early on. Billy the Kid always fascinated me, as did Wyatt Earp, and Doc Holliday. I don’t think I necessarily grasped the fact that any of these people were real for the longest time, but when I started to research these guys and found out that the truth was even more interesting than the fiction, I wanted to write something about them. I intend to do this. I have been researching, which is kind of something I don’t usually intentionally do. The last time I did that intensively was when I was at high school and I became a little obsessed with Celtic mythology and traced down the whole structures of the myth cycles and all the tributaries running off from them through the Encyclopedia Brittanica and any other book I could find reference to.
But some things I am willing to wait for – there are books that I started writing and haven’t finished because I had to live through some stuff to get to the point where I was ready to write them. Kind of like having to be a certain age to appreciate Woody Allen.
Write and write and write and write, and if there is any spare time write some more.