Hint: It's About a "Villain"

I need a new computer. Sooner would be better, as my current computer apparently does not want to be charged up anymore. I think I'm just going to take the hard drive out of the ole Dell so that I can keep my information somehow. I'm looking at the new Dell Inspiron 1525, and it seems like a decent deal. Also, it comes in cool new colors!

In other news, I'm still trying desperately to write something. I obliquely mentioned a while back that I'm kinda sorta trying to write a book. The idea seems strong right now, but for some reason the words aren't coming out onto the page properly anymore. I've outlined and thematacized and character sketched and all that fun stuff, but the actual story isn't coming out right. I think I'm overthinking things and being too perfectionist about it.

It's okay to make mistakes and suck. It's okay to make mistakes and suck.

I know that, brain! However, this is incredibly frustrating, because I've had this idea for the better part of a year now, and have developed it from a loose sketch of an idea into something which can possibly stand on its own merit. Of all things to possibly give me a creative bump, it was something in the movie D.E.B.S. I know! I sketched out my first ideas for the story on a train ride back from Peoria last Thanksgiving. Dr. Horrible is also similar theme-wise (which is maybe making me so afraid to try--damn you Joss Whedon). In fact, all this recent "Oh woe is me, I don't know what I want to do in life. OH, I know, I'll be a movie director and tell wonderful celluloid stories, yadda yadda yadda" stuff started because of the sudden, incredible desire to tell this one story. So, you know, best answer is to actually write a damn book.

I feel like I've been watching too much TV and getting into too big of a rut recently, as well. This blog isn't nearly as interesting as it should be for a 23 year old living in one of the biggest cities in the good ole US of A. My solution has been to read voraciously. So far, it's been reigniting the need to tell the story, but until recently, I really haven't had great inspiration.

The Sirens of Titan was really really great, and although Vonnegut is both quite deep and quirky as hell, his style isn't something that can inspire me in writing. It's amazing, but doesn't resonate with what I'm "writing." Twilight actually helped, in that it showed me how to not write a compelling book. I can learn bunches about proper characterization, plot, and development of a meaningful theme by looking at what Stephanie Meyer didn't do. Am I still being too mean to her book? Perhaps. Regardless of my personal anger towards it, the book is, after all, really only a poorly plotted bodice-ripper with no actual bodice ripping, and probably good for someone to read at a day on the beach. HOWEVER, if that thin read can inspire such a rabid (terrifying to even an unabashed Whedon fan) fanbase and make that much money, maybe my little idea can at least interest someone somewhere.

So now I'm reading 1984. YES! Not only is it changing my mood and making me more paranoid/ more obliged to express myself than ever before, but the themes of the book are keeping with slightly similar themes that my world will contain. Not to mention, it's a hell of a good read. Now if only my computer at home could work, so that I can actually start to get some ideas out, without the sheer paranoia that slacking off at work now creates.

Thank you, Winston Smith. Your defiant journaling has helped me to remember why I wanted to write in the first place. Maybe I can finally force myself to do it.