A revelation of sorts
|"Hold still, now, aaaaaand... Zap!"|
The last one has been bothering me for a while. I am not one of those compulsive writers that must write or expire from the pent up frustration. I am not one of those seized by genius and with a desire to show the world something new and amazing. I am one of those who writes because he is a little lonesome, a little bored, and is lacking in self-belief and needs the affirmation of strangers. Yeah, that cock.
But what, I pondered, if I could let all of that go, and simply tell a story?
What story? I countered.
Shut the hell up, me.
What if I did just forget about me and write freed of fear that I would be met with ridicule? That would surely be liberating. What if, instead of simply writing regardless of the fear, I actively embraced it? Writing in full view of the public? Will Self did it (or at least I believe he did, writing onto an acetate slide projected on the wall of an art gallery - I thought the Tate but can't seem to find the evidence). How could that not be an excellent challenge to take on? How to facilitate this?
The answer, as you will have guessed, is always in front of you.
@WorkingTitled is my new project which you can follow over on the right there, or on my Live Journal account, where every entry is being logged. Writing in 140 character bursts, live and on the web, to anyone who will listen, completely open and honest. No deletions, no back-tracking on my promise to myself, no bullshit. Damn it but this is terrifying.
This is the novel writing project of @themightybuch. Welcome. From here on in, all tweets will be part of the novel, live and unadulterated.
— G R B D (@WorkingTitled) June 10, 2013
So there you have it. No other activity will cease to make way, I will just be writing, 140 characters of new novel, hopefully every day, or at least as often as possible. They say when you've hit around 6000 tweets you already sufficient words for a novella. Let's see if it's true.