Sunday, April 17, 2011

Sometimes, I can't believe how much I love the English language. Or more correctly, how much I love words/thoughts/ideas/feelings/life.

I love writing, creating something out of the thoughts floating around in my head. to form that perfect sentence is like a summer's kiss in light rain. There are so many choices, that finding that words that fit perfectly together can be so overwhelmingly daunting that I back away from writing. Of course, that's the worst thing to do. My idea didn't go away because I didn't know how to express it. It's still there and it still wants to be heard.

I realized that it's this trait that makes me judge art the way I do. Songs need lyrics; movies need dialogue. Books get off the easiest. Write one perfect sentence and I'll remember your book. I'll never forget The Forest of Hands and Teeth because of one idea the writer shares.

"When you hear the constant screaming, you get use to it. You stop looking for it, and when you hear it, you just shrug it off. Life is normal."

It was a zombie book that sucked. The main character is a whinny bitch that didn't deserve to live. But I liked the idea that we get so use to something that despite it being fatal, we just accept it. It's so true.

I finished another chapter in my a book of short stories I'm writing. I'm proud of myself. Of course, I'm working at a ridiculously slow pace, but I have hope for this one. I'm tired of giving up on ideas.

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