Writing...

[fajrdrako]

Blogging. Ever since Robin Hobb wrote her piece on how writers should be getting on with the act of writing, not messing around on journaling, I've been struggling with a thread of guilt. Especially since certain people like maaseru have pointed to the article, and said, "It's absolutely right." And I think guiltily: "if I spend x number of minutes writing LJ instead of fic...."

But it isn't a simply syllogism. I can write a ten-minute LJ entry, easily, and do it often. I can't write fic in segments ten minutes. Usually it takes ten minutes to figure out what my scene is and where I'm going with it. Or sometimes I can, but it isn't the same sort of ten minutes. Fiction has its own parameters.

When there was no blogging in my life or anyone else's, I still kept journals. The difference is that no one but me saw them. (Well, except that time my husband started reading my pre-marriage journals to see what I'd said about him, and what a bad idea that was.) I spent daily time in writing letters to friends - I had dozens of pen-pals. I was in apazines. (Many apazines.) It was all the same blogging impulse.

I remind myself of this, when I find myself feeling guilt for writing in LJ and enjoying it. I see no reason to decide that one form of writing is better than another - any more than one kind of reading is better than another, or one kind of movie or TV show over another.

LJ is fun, and it's a stress reliever, and right now it's a much-needed lifeline to the world outside my apartment. Of course I love it.

sartorias's LJ got me thinking about this again. I'm trying to live without guilt about the things I love to do: it makes sense that some find LJ a pleasure in itself, and other people don't.

Comments

[fajrdrako.livejournal.com]

Journals are vital. I've kept them, off and on, almost all my life.

I go in spells. I've never been very consistent about it - I find that the feedback-exchange nature of LJ makes it easier for me to keep my enthusiasm up. And whenever I have been troubled, or had decisions to make, I've found that keeping a journal is very helpful.

He took the Very Large Box with all my pre-him journals ... and put it in the dumpster while I was at work one day.

How awful! My husband threw out my journals, too - but of course the harm had been done, really, before that. He'd read them and couldn't forget what he'd read. I don't think the marriage had much hope in the long run anyway, but I do think of that as a turning point.

I left him not long after that...

Good move!

[mmegaera.livejournal.com]

I go in spells.

So do I. I went through most of my twenties filling no more than a couple of blank books. Which, in hindsight, was counterproductive, as my twenties were pretty full of upheaval and I probably could have used the place to vent. I've been a lot more consistent writing since I've been single.

My husband threw out my journals, too

You're the only other person I've ever met who had that happen. And they wonder why trust is an issue...

He'd read them and couldn't forget what he'd read.

I'm pretty sure that's what happened with the ex, too. He never did admit to actually reading them, but I know he did. He was rather insanely jealous of the fellow who was my boyfriend when we were all in high school together (I met my ex my junior year in high school, but didn't start dating him till about four years later) -- the guy's name was Stewart, and among many other inanities related to his name B. insisted on calling stew soup [wry g].

He was a mess. The jealousy was actually the least of his problems.

[fajrdrako.livejournal.com]

I went through most of my twenties filling no more than a couple of blank books. Which, in hindsight, was counterproductive, as my twenties were pretty full of upheaval and I probably could have used the place to vent.

And sometimes when it's all happening is when it's most difficult to talk about or write about. Or too overwhelming.

they wonder why trust is an issue...

Exactly!

He never did admit to actually reading them, but I know he did.

I'd find it hard to believe he didn't.

The jealousy was actually the least of his problems.

Same in my case, too - jealousy was only one symptom of many problems. But it's indicative.

[mmegaera.livejournal.com]

it's most difficult to talk about or write about

Yes. I went back a couple of years after the fact and wrote a novella-length memoir about when I left my second ex (I'm good at a lot of things -- marriage is not one of them). I couldn't have written it then -- I still refer to that time as The Month From Hell. I got divorced, quit my job, and moved cross-country to take another job in a place I'd never been before. Then my dad died 2000 miles away, the day after I moved into my new apartment, and I had to make it to the funeral. This all happened in the space of about a week and a half.

But I lived through that, so I know I can survive anything [g].

I agree with you wholeheartedly about jealousy-as-symptom. Too bad I didn't know what to look for when I married him...

[fajrdrako.livejournal.com]

I went back a couple of years after the fact and wrote a novella-length memoir about when I left my second ex

Impressive!

I got divorced, quit my job, and moved cross-country to take another job in a place I'd never been before. Then my dad died 2000 miles away

Scary to have all that happen so quickly. I had a six-month period rather like this - but it was at the beginning of my marriage, not the end.

I'm good at a lot of things -- marriage is not one of them

I've always thought I would be really good at marriage. I still believe it, despite all evidence to the contrary!

[mmegaera.livejournal.com]

But not salable, alas, at least not till my mother is gone, which hopefully will not be for a good long time. My sisters can get as offended as they like over it, but I do care about what my mother would think. And she would not be happy about me writing about my father's death and funeral for publication.

It was scary. But it was my coming of age. And I turned 34 in the middle of it [g].

I knew from the time I was old enough to understand what marriage really was that I didn't want to get married, then for some reason I lost all sense (and got terrified that I wouldn't be able to survive on my own) and married the second man who asked me. Then when I was in the throes of my divorce, I met another man who wanted to rescue me, and wound up making the same mistake a second time. When I left him I didn't do it again.

I just had to learn I could make it on my own, and was a long time figuring that out.

[fajrdrako.livejournal.com]

Really, despite all the rational considerations, "making it on your own" can be very scary. And I'd still rather have someone than not have someone to share my life - it just hasn't worked out that way. So. I'm sure there's some sort of life-lesson in this. If I have to be independent, I can be.

It isn't marriage that I want, particularly - I have my doubts about marriage - but sharing time/space/life/sex seems to me a good idea. If it works out. Which it does for some people.

Making it on your own has its highlights too. Independence is great.

[mmegaera.livejournal.com]

I'd still rather have someone

Most of humanity probably feels that way. I'm one of the few oddballs who doesn't. Although I know it would be easier economically.

But it's just so much easier to keep the sine wave (personal metaphor) on an even keel when I'm not sharing my home with someone else.

[fajrdrako.livejournal.com]

There's certainly a lot to be said for keeping one's space the way one wants it - metaphorically, emotionally, physically and psychologically. Which is probably why I have kept mine so: I like the way it reflects me. And though I would 'rather have someone', it's clearly with mixed feelings - I'm past the point of easy compromise.

[mmegaera.livejournal.com]

I'm past the point of easy compromise

So am I. If I ever had such a point in the first place, which is doubtful.

There's something about living with someone else that amplifies my already-borderline-manageable mood swings pretty much to the point of no return. Alas.

[fajrdrako.livejournal.com]

something about living with someone else that amplifies my already-borderline-manageable mood swings

Yes.

I don't have mood swings, as far as I know, and I have this happy delusions that I am or would be the perfect companion. But none of my relationships worked out long-term, so I must simply be wrong. It's all quite baffling.

[mmegaera.livejournal.com]

Either that or you simply never met the right person, which seems much more likely to me.

It's the luck of the draw, alas.

[fajrdrako.livejournal.com]

Either that or you simply never met the right person, which seems much more likely to me.

Yes, I suppose so. Or... didn't meet the right person at the right time.

It's the luck of the draw

That's life, isn't it? Whatever your intentions or plans, it just continues however it continues, whether that's what you wanted or not.