amicus
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Sep 28, 2003
- Posts
- 14,812
I just realized; I don’t have to write it?
Perhaps those of you who have been writing for a while will relate to this, perhaps not.
When I think of a story, I think it through, beginning to end, before I ever begin to type, well, most always anyway, nothing ’absolute’ here.
I give each story a title, by which I might remember, in this case, on an 8x11 sheet of printer paper.
And the titles I have accumulated in the past few weeks, very little written, but all composed in my mind, include:
Hayride…
Shoplifter Girl…
The Babysitter’s Choice…
The Girl in the Park, Annabel Lee
Autistic Girl ( I don’t care)
Two Japanese Girls, Amika and Amiko, (yes, I know)
The latest, just in the past few days, had a title of “Hitchhiker Girl”, but became, “Runaway Girl” and I have rewritten, in my mind, and revised and added and subtracted, unceasingly, for hours on end.
In my opinion, who else would I ask in the formative stage; each is a sensitive and tender story, with meaning far beyond words, and yet, they remain unwritten and unknown by anyone outside my own mind.
Each story has memorable characters, in my opinion anyway, each has a different aspect of explicit, personal, intimate relationships and each has a moral, of course, which is why I am Amicus, I guess.
Tonight, again, walking and pacing and thinking and drinking and going through the entire story, top to bottom, and feeling the nagging guilt, as I always do, about getting it down on paper, in the file, preserved, logged in, on the record, whatever….I finally came to the conclusion that I did not have to write the damned thing anyway!
It shook me a little.
I don’t ‘have’ to write it!
I hope I do write it. It is a good story, entertaining and certainly ‘wankable’, and more; yet if I do not, who is to know, aside from me?
And why should I feel that nagging guilt about not putting it to a file?
Not sure how this will sit with anyone. I know there are hundreds of stories I have conceived and not written and I have guilt about those too; that I should have.
But it must be, I hope, a learning process of sorts. A means by which one discovers and expands the borders of one’s thoughts and imagination?
I really don’t know. Maybe I am just inherently lazy.
Amicus…
Perhaps those of you who have been writing for a while will relate to this, perhaps not.
When I think of a story, I think it through, beginning to end, before I ever begin to type, well, most always anyway, nothing ’absolute’ here.
I give each story a title, by which I might remember, in this case, on an 8x11 sheet of printer paper.
And the titles I have accumulated in the past few weeks, very little written, but all composed in my mind, include:
Hayride…
Shoplifter Girl…
The Babysitter’s Choice…
The Girl in the Park, Annabel Lee
Autistic Girl ( I don’t care)
Two Japanese Girls, Amika and Amiko, (yes, I know)
The latest, just in the past few days, had a title of “Hitchhiker Girl”, but became, “Runaway Girl” and I have rewritten, in my mind, and revised and added and subtracted, unceasingly, for hours on end.
In my opinion, who else would I ask in the formative stage; each is a sensitive and tender story, with meaning far beyond words, and yet, they remain unwritten and unknown by anyone outside my own mind.
Each story has memorable characters, in my opinion anyway, each has a different aspect of explicit, personal, intimate relationships and each has a moral, of course, which is why I am Amicus, I guess.
Tonight, again, walking and pacing and thinking and drinking and going through the entire story, top to bottom, and feeling the nagging guilt, as I always do, about getting it down on paper, in the file, preserved, logged in, on the record, whatever….I finally came to the conclusion that I did not have to write the damned thing anyway!
It shook me a little.
I don’t ‘have’ to write it!
I hope I do write it. It is a good story, entertaining and certainly ‘wankable’, and more; yet if I do not, who is to know, aside from me?
And why should I feel that nagging guilt about not putting it to a file?
Not sure how this will sit with anyone. I know there are hundreds of stories I have conceived and not written and I have guilt about those too; that I should have.
But it must be, I hope, a learning process of sorts. A means by which one discovers and expands the borders of one’s thoughts and imagination?
I really don’t know. Maybe I am just inherently lazy.
Amicus…