The other day, it occurred to me that my flash drive was randomly deleting files. This… cannot be good. So I took everything off and vowed to invest in a new drive, seeing now everything is stored on my work PC (not that this is a problem, but there’s a reason I carried it on a flash drive—I like to carry it back & forth). But this is not my point. I just wanted to complain about that.

My point is, as I was going through the files, I actually opened a folder titled “writing.” I believe I last opened this in November, when completing NaNoWriMo. There were some other files in there that I had to check out, mainly out of curiosity, but also to see if any had been corrupted (only one, thankfully, but that still broke my little heart).

My musings: I have stock characters. In the majority of my tales, there’s one “wild” female with questionable language, most likely a smoker. Where does she come from, and why does she keep on appearing?

I attended a reading by John Irving once in which he stated, “everything is autobiographical.” And while his characters aren’t based on real people he thinks, perhaps, he wishes them to be real. Because what’s more genuine that the things you create in your own mind? In every story of mine featuring this character type, it’s like I’m trying to refine her. I obviously haven’t met her yet, or like what I’ve seen, because she continually reappears. Meaghan, Kat, Selina. They’re from different stories but are, deep down, the same person.

What also astounded me is the fact this stuff isn’t terrible. Usually, as I’m writing something, I hate it. I consider the fact this couldn’t possibly go anywhere. But even though the stuff on my “flash drive” is unfinished, it’s not half bad. I got a few chuckles out of it. Like the guy who makes out with his co-worker during a party to only depart from her saying, “see ya.” I mean, that’s almost classic.

Today, I started writing the “sequel” to my NaNo novel. When I finished the novel in November, I knew the story wasn’t over. And this is an odd concept, writing something outside NaNo. I know. It’s pathetic, considering I have a Writing degree. But I may finally be developing a voice that’s not awful. Even in every day speech, there is a certain air about my vernacular, and I know one day I’ll transform into a real-life snob because of it. But all writers have their quirks. Mine just happens to be classy.

Wednesday, 13 January 2010   ♦   writing