XIV: Get comfortable here.

Augh. Tonight feels like it's vanished. This is my night of utter lost-ness. I should know enough about words to have phrased that better, but you get me, right?

I'm frustrated because I'm sensing that I don't have a proper outlet for my current potential of creative energy. I've been kvetching about it for weeks now, my frustration at how hard it is to be funny on command and how I want to write something that makes somebody (me, for instance,) laugh. This was intensified when I saw Superbad.

Eric and I have been plotting out the next Sewerman series, but our focus for the most part hasn't been on making it funny, more on making it interesting. There's a difference.

God only knows, man. I'd like to go back and re-do Summer at Sixteen. I loved the characters, but I think that, looking back, it was way too dry, and I've expressed this many times. I wonder how Ana feels about that. She once told me she now knew what was wrong with it, although I don't suspect that was what she meant. She probably just had some structural bone to pick because she'd been in her first semester of Media arts.

I don't know. I don't know if I'm going to grow as a writer, or if I'm going to set myself into a downward spiral of frustration and doubt. I have a lot of things I could go on and write, ideas I wrote down years ago but am not interested in doing at the moment. I have a script that is more-or-less half-done.

I'm having one of those personal crises, you know, where I just got to keep typing. I'm burned out by too much nothing in my life.

Fuckin' hell.

It's tuesday night, August 21 at 11:02 PM, Diane and I am having yet another pointless fit of nonsense.

I need some direction.I write better when I have other things to think about, when the molecules have to churn faster. See NaNo, when my entire life was like a hurricane. Right now it's like a vacuum of outer space.

Augh!

Keep on rockin'
-Scott