Howdy! Long have I wanted to make a topic in this manner. As writers, continually do we attempt to improve our always-growing vast diction, and to really pronounce our writing style in such a profound way it really shocks those that read it.
For me, I've found that niche, but up until now, everything, everything I have written has been third person omniscient. While I'm very good at this style of perspective, I have really not ventured into other styles of perspectives to really call myself experienced outside of this habitual style I've engrossed myself in.
So, for the first time today, after reading all fourty thousand words of the current novel I'm working on, after hearing countless praises from my selected proofreaders on the quality and originality of the work, I realized today that it's missing something key to the type of story it is, something that until now I didn't realize was causing my current bout of writer's block, as probably anyone could see in my signature. The word count has been suffering. My progress this last two weeks has slowed greatly, because in over 130 pages of well-thought out, original first draft material, I had not realized this missing piece.
What is it? Well, as protection to my own work, I'll leave it as vaguely and yet as vastly descriptive as humanly possible. Touch. My work was, and is missing touch. The story, I cannot describe here, but I can say that the way I've built it, planned it, poured sweat, tears and blood into the intricacies and affairs of my beloved characters, it's just not enough now.
And then it clicked, this realization of an ephemeral idea that once again sparked my imagination into a wildfire that quickly burned through my entire brain. I found myself screaming in my mind over and over, in anticipation, rather than repugnance, "REWRITE! REWRITE! REWRITE!!!"
Why? It needs touch! And that touch will be found in a new, first person perspective that I can wholly and gladly say I have never truly taken before. And so far, I'm loving it, because it's working. I'm going to have marketable material.
Now, it would be unfair of me to spout so much off without showing off a bit of this experimentation, so here is a tidbit that reveals nothing about the story, that ultimately will be rewritten, in case anyone gets the bright idea to attempt some nasty-nasty plaguerism. First-draft garbage, but good garbage.
=========================================================
The sunset very seldom looked like it did on this particular evening; clouds
hanging dangerously low in the sky, cumulous in stature, reflecting the
various awe-inspiring colors radiantly as the giant ball of life-giving prowess
receded back into the horizon, bestowing upon the rest of the land a serene,
nourishing sense of nostalgic pride for the finished day not found in any part
of the world as commonplace. Call it unnecessary sentiment for a man, but I
enjoyed it. As often as possible, I made an effort to bid the fiery obstacle a
silent goodbye. Effort being the key word; whether or not I actually get to
enjoy such a sight in any given day was the real challenge. Anyone can say
they give effort, but very few can say their efforts are always fruitful. I am
just the same in that regard. Try as I might, I’m far from perfect, even in my
own eyes. I tend to believe it’s experience that causes me to be so
accepting of this particular flaw, but then again, it could just be my own
ignorance corrupting that opinion. Either way, it couldn’t do a thing to
interrupt my smile on this occasion. It was the first sunset I’d enjoyed in a
considerable amount of time.
In retrospect, I’ve always been of character to take what life has to offer.
At times my own supposed “heroism” really gets in the way of the trait,
however. My life, albeit far from corrupt, has not been easy up until this
point, and I can honestly say it was not foreseen in the slightest. As stable
a man as I am, even I am surprised at this resolve I seem to have adopted
standing strong under the conditions of this life. I say this sitting perched up
on this hilltop in the valley, watching serenity take its hold over the land like
outstretched, gentle fingers. To me, I feel I should be baffled by such a
complacency, especially after all that’s transpired over the last few grueling
months, days, hours, and minutes. I truly was not lying when I mentioned
that this evening was the first time in many countless seconds that I’ve had
to really, truly smile at a beautiful thing; this rare, fleeting sky.
For me, I've found that niche, but up until now, everything, everything I have written has been third person omniscient. While I'm very good at this style of perspective, I have really not ventured into other styles of perspectives to really call myself experienced outside of this habitual style I've engrossed myself in.
So, for the first time today, after reading all fourty thousand words of the current novel I'm working on, after hearing countless praises from my selected proofreaders on the quality and originality of the work, I realized today that it's missing something key to the type of story it is, something that until now I didn't realize was causing my current bout of writer's block, as probably anyone could see in my signature. The word count has been suffering. My progress this last two weeks has slowed greatly, because in over 130 pages of well-thought out, original first draft material, I had not realized this missing piece.
What is it? Well, as protection to my own work, I'll leave it as vaguely and yet as vastly descriptive as humanly possible. Touch. My work was, and is missing touch. The story, I cannot describe here, but I can say that the way I've built it, planned it, poured sweat, tears and blood into the intricacies and affairs of my beloved characters, it's just not enough now.
And then it clicked, this realization of an ephemeral idea that once again sparked my imagination into a wildfire that quickly burned through my entire brain. I found myself screaming in my mind over and over, in anticipation, rather than repugnance, "REWRITE! REWRITE! REWRITE!!!"
Why? It needs touch! And that touch will be found in a new, first person perspective that I can wholly and gladly say I have never truly taken before. And so far, I'm loving it, because it's working. I'm going to have marketable material.
Now, it would be unfair of me to spout so much off without showing off a bit of this experimentation, so here is a tidbit that reveals nothing about the story, that ultimately will be rewritten, in case anyone gets the bright idea to attempt some nasty-nasty plaguerism. First-draft garbage, but good garbage.
=========================================================
The sunset very seldom looked like it did on this particular evening; clouds
hanging dangerously low in the sky, cumulous in stature, reflecting the
various awe-inspiring colors radiantly as the giant ball of life-giving prowess
receded back into the horizon, bestowing upon the rest of the land a serene,
nourishing sense of nostalgic pride for the finished day not found in any part
of the world as commonplace. Call it unnecessary sentiment for a man, but I
enjoyed it. As often as possible, I made an effort to bid the fiery obstacle a
silent goodbye. Effort being the key word; whether or not I actually get to
enjoy such a sight in any given day was the real challenge. Anyone can say
they give effort, but very few can say their efforts are always fruitful. I am
just the same in that regard. Try as I might, I’m far from perfect, even in my
own eyes. I tend to believe it’s experience that causes me to be so
accepting of this particular flaw, but then again, it could just be my own
ignorance corrupting that opinion. Either way, it couldn’t do a thing to
interrupt my smile on this occasion. It was the first sunset I’d enjoyed in a
considerable amount of time.
In retrospect, I’ve always been of character to take what life has to offer.
At times my own supposed “heroism” really gets in the way of the trait,
however. My life, albeit far from corrupt, has not been easy up until this
point, and I can honestly say it was not foreseen in the slightest. As stable
a man as I am, even I am surprised at this resolve I seem to have adopted
standing strong under the conditions of this life. I say this sitting perched up
on this hilltop in the valley, watching serenity take its hold over the land like
outstretched, gentle fingers. To me, I feel I should be baffled by such a
complacency, especially after all that’s transpired over the last few grueling
months, days, hours, and minutes. I truly was not lying when I mentioned
that this evening was the first time in many countless seconds that I’ve had
to really, truly smile at a beautiful thing; this rare, fleeting sky.
Last edited:
