fufaraw

On a scenic drive yesterday we saw a flock of migratory ducks spread over a flooded field. "Oh," OH observed, "a field of ducks."

I nodded, and intoned solemnly, "Autocorrect at work."

Sparked by discussion in kalliel's LJ. I'm attempting to change. I'm the world's most resistant to change (Nothing stays the same. Nothing ever changes for the better). But the barely-there "process" which entails mostly ignoring a story until it works itself out in the subconscious and then sandbags me at a weak moment, more or less complete, isn't working even as poorly as it has done in the past. I've always been a linear person in everything--work, plans, socializing, as well as writing--not allowing distractions and sidelines ("Stay on target." "But the thing--! And that other thing!" "Stay on target.") so that once in a while I could maybe actually get some things done, finish stuff.

Finish stuff? With writing, I need to *start* stuff. I have so many half-baked ideas rattling around in corners I need to drag out into the light and actually work on. I started making synopseeeees and outlines, but that's sort of a fine line to walk, too, because sometimes by the time you've made your outline, added notes as you think of them (and right here, *this* happens, and, *reaction* and then, *result*, tah-dah!), it's all there, and what's the point of writing it *then*?

So I've begun a newer tactic, of making notes, brief synopsis, outline, and sticking it on an accessible shelf in the library in my head and leaving it there. If I think of a detail, I pull it out and scribble it down and put it back on the shelf. And that way it's sort of working itself out in the backbrain. There are several at the moment, and with a tiny bit of occasional air and water, they're each growing at their own rate. And sometimes one will go 'Phwoomph!' outgrow its shelf, and need more detailed attention.

I've never been a plate-spinner, always forced myself to be linear, so that I could actually occasionally finish something. But linear was killing me, with the barren landscape and the scouring winds. So we'll see how well this method works out, maybe.