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There is an episode of the show Futurama where the hero, Fry, and his friends have to film a new episode of a television show cancelled centuries ago to appease an alien overlord who is invading Earth. They start broadcasting it live only to discover they only have a few seconds' worth of dialogue. Fry explains that "It took me an hour to write. I thought it would take an hour to say."
It's funny because it's true. The act of writing alters your perception of time in truly mindfucking ways. If you're not a writer there really isn't a way to convey the bewilderment and disorientation that comes with looking at the clock and realizing you have been laboring for an hour only to have six sentences staring back at you. They might not even be sentences you want to keep, at that.
I started writing almost the minute I woke up this morning. And the chronological disconnect actually wasn't that drastic. I got an entire page of handwritten, single-spaced material cranked out in an hour and a half and I was happy with every jot and tittle of it. That's rare for me. But still, it felt like I should have no fewer than ten leaves, their every centimeter covered in ink, staring back at me. I know a lot of people who read what I say here are writers and I'm curious if you notice this phenomenon as much as I do. Is it a source of frustration in your work or just something you accept or don't think about that much?
( Seasons in the Abyss progress report. )
I should stop talking before I get spoilery or ruin the mystery for future readers. Of course, by the time this story finally sees the light of day - which could be a year or more from now - it may have turned into something else entirely again and everything I've said here will be moot. In which case the joke will be on you. But I promise I will make being the brunt of said joke worth your while :)
It's funny because it's true. The act of writing alters your perception of time in truly mindfucking ways. If you're not a writer there really isn't a way to convey the bewilderment and disorientation that comes with looking at the clock and realizing you have been laboring for an hour only to have six sentences staring back at you. They might not even be sentences you want to keep, at that.
I started writing almost the minute I woke up this morning. And the chronological disconnect actually wasn't that drastic. I got an entire page of handwritten, single-spaced material cranked out in an hour and a half and I was happy with every jot and tittle of it. That's rare for me. But still, it felt like I should have no fewer than ten leaves, their every centimeter covered in ink, staring back at me. I know a lot of people who read what I say here are writers and I'm curious if you notice this phenomenon as much as I do. Is it a source of frustration in your work or just something you accept or don't think about that much?
( Seasons in the Abyss progress report. )
I should stop talking before I get spoilery or ruin the mystery for future readers. Of course, by the time this story finally sees the light of day - which could be a year or more from now - it may have turned into something else entirely again and everything I've said here will be moot. In which case the joke will be on you. But I promise I will make being the brunt of said joke worth your while :)
