If the lifespan of the universe was condensed into a 24 hour period, earth would appear around 11am, the dinosaurs would be killed by 9pm and the entire human history would be in the final 3 seconds. So really, when you look at it like that, who gives a fuck about essays? Much like a tube of toothpaste, you use time copiously until you’re at the last few drop left which you then stretch out for all their worth. It’s bizarre the little nuances writers find themselves to avoid doing the actual work. Where I’m concerned, writing is 99% formulating, and idealising and then in the final scratch of time left, you actually write it down. The timespan from conception to the words hitting the paper is ages, I never actively write over a long period of time, but rather cram into two days. I’m now waiting for that opportunity, I want to sit down for hours, with an army of Red Bull, Coffee Beans and Jelly Babies lined up behind me, ready for battle. This is the test of my previous statement, I could be bricklaying right now, but rather I’m waiting like the lazy bastard I am.
What’s really taking ages is getting into the mood. The piece I’m writing is a conceptual horror, trying to rely on social and technological conventions to push the fear and unnerving nature forward. However, I find it so hard to detach myself from the writing, I remember last year during a massive splurge of squelchy writing, it came time to kill a character. When I’d finished, I actually felt numb for a while, it wasn’t attachment to the character but rather the mindset needed to do the scene, character and ideals justice was such a mind fuck that I ended up drained, exchanging my brain for candy floss. The same is for this, except for the whole piece, I want to build up characters to then completely obliterate them, but it’s a bit difficult to maintain the ominous mood consistently for so long, especially when I keep writing dialogue like this…
Jessica: Can’t say I’m all that surprised, but still, Rugby team. Not bad.
Michaela: I thought so. Certainly had a goal in mind.
Jessica: But what was the morning-after conversation like?
Michaela: I don’t think we did much talking in the morning.
Jessica: You have that much energy for a Rugby player?
Michaela: Player? Oh Jessica, I said team.
That is horror. But on a whole different kind of level…