WAVERLY!
Waverly is my novelthing. I started it about a year and a half ago. It is an idea repository, pages overflowing with many partially-formed ideas. I love the main character, Eliza. I can see her - it sounds strange - but she seems real to me. And it is like she is the one encouraging me to write the story.
It's not so long yet. A bit more than fifty, sixty pages. Three parts. A trinity motif. Religious undercurrents and scientific anxiety. Dreams, dreams, dreams. Sandy air, stitched cushions, shortbread, wispy-haired girls and ridgepole stories. Sometimes I think I don't know where it is going. How can I get a plot in there? Where do I want this thing to go? Then I write something in it and it continues becoming. I have to redo the beginning. I will edit it later, when it is done, when it is more. I like it. It's close to me, the landscape of imagination as manifested in the setting and characters and what they say and do.
I think, I'm too lazy to write, I'm a hack!, I have no original ideas today. But the truth is, I'm only seventeen years old. I am a child. A high school student. I chase myself with tangled questions and whywhywhy and the truth is, I don't know anything. And that is such a relief.
I think I have to know where everything is going. I think I have to do this this and this to get where I should be at a certain point in time. But I don't, I don't, I don't. I only have to live, now, do what feels right and what feels the most pure, and stop trying to undo the nonexistent tangle. I only have to stop thinking about how good it will look to everyone else so I have to do that, or how other people might laugh so I shouldn't tell that.
I'm tired. I'm going to college (URI) tomorrow to visit a very close friend and must get up early for an exciting day. I might go to college there after all, who knows? I don't. The thought used to disappoint me but it doesn't so much now, not because I am settling, but because I don't know anything. That didn't make any sense, but I know what I meant. Anyway. I'm going to reread one of my favorite books, yes, Anne of Green Gables, and stop pretending to be serious.
It's not so long yet. A bit more than fifty, sixty pages. Three parts. A trinity motif. Religious undercurrents and scientific anxiety. Dreams, dreams, dreams. Sandy air, stitched cushions, shortbread, wispy-haired girls and ridgepole stories. Sometimes I think I don't know where it is going. How can I get a plot in there? Where do I want this thing to go? Then I write something in it and it continues becoming. I have to redo the beginning. I will edit it later, when it is done, when it is more. I like it. It's close to me, the landscape of imagination as manifested in the setting and characters and what they say and do.
I think, I'm too lazy to write, I'm a hack!, I have no original ideas today. But the truth is, I'm only seventeen years old. I am a child. A high school student. I chase myself with tangled questions and whywhywhy and the truth is, I don't know anything. And that is such a relief.
I think I have to know where everything is going. I think I have to do this this and this to get where I should be at a certain point in time. But I don't, I don't, I don't. I only have to live, now, do what feels right and what feels the most pure, and stop trying to undo the nonexistent tangle. I only have to stop thinking about how good it will look to everyone else so I have to do that, or how other people might laugh so I shouldn't tell that.
I'm tired. I'm going to college (URI) tomorrow to visit a very close friend and must get up early for an exciting day. I might go to college there after all, who knows? I don't. The thought used to disappoint me but it doesn't so much now, not because I am settling, but because I don't know anything. That didn't make any sense, but I know what I meant. Anyway. I'm going to reread one of my favorite books, yes, Anne of Green Gables, and stop pretending to be serious.
posted by Laura at 9:40 PM
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