Excuses, excuses

Story writing is a pain. Mostly because I think of the way I want things to end first and then work my way backwards to what set them off in the first place. Of course, when you get down to actual writing, you have to do it from beginning to end--even the bits and pieces. When you do that, however, the characters or the situation have a pesky habit of deciding that they want to have a say in what happens too, and to hell with your well-crafted, oh-so-clever/poignant/meaningful/disturbing ending.

So I write about writing instead. It's a great escape and it still passes for work because I'm still 'writing' and still engaging with the original project, if only as something to whine about.

The thing is, I've never written actual characters before. I do poetry, images, vignettes, all of which allow you to focus on the point, and only the point, not full fledged people with lives and relationships. I've only ever written short stories centered on violence and gore (I was a happy little teenager) where the characters were simply vehicles for the action, not people in themselves. Ah well. What's the point of being here if not to try on different things for size, right? And I have to say I've learnt a lot already about what makes characters tick, how to make them more real, and so on. I suppose it's just that I'm fundamentally uninterested in people I don't know--until I get to know them, of course. Maybe the more accurate word is disinterested. So the thing to do would be to get to know the lot I'm writing about and suspend the point of the story till then. Sounds like a plan.