Whatchmacallit

It’s funny how as I get more experience writing, I become more convinced that I’m not very good at it. Today, I’m convinced that I’m especially ungood at the whole, you know, stringing-words-together-to-communicate thing. And turning pictures into words, that’s hard too.  I have an unfortunate fondness for detailed, highly technical supernatural non-see-y things and my God, well, let’s just say it’s good that nobody ever hired me as a technical writer. And it’s like I think about emotions and stuff, my thought processes– all about emotions, you know? But the language for explaining it so other people understand… not so good there.

Oh, and how people move their bodies and stuff? You know, in fast tense scenes? Ugly, that’s all I can say. All that physical space.  My brain is not a Hong Kong action film! And the dialog– well, I’m okay at the I HATE YOU! NO I HATE U! stuff but the, uh, the ‘so this is what I know’ stuff is all… I can’t even explain. I’m sure it’s as dull as beans. Are beans dull?  I don’t even know. Apparently metaphors are useful or something? Character voice kills itself in despair at the dullness.

The whole thing is like swimming in the middle of a black sludge lake. It’s unpleasant and I know I stink but what else am I going to do?

Want story strung together entirely of melodramatic reveals, bitchy arguments, passionate character revelations and some booms. Bundle with OOC setting encylopedia. Yeah.