Oct the Fifth
I haven’t started writing yet, but I just wanted to make this entry for myself in hopes that I might deal with an anxiety that’s been haunting me.
So, by definition, an Exordium is “the beginning or introductory part, especially of a discourse or treatise.” That’s basically the same thing as a prologue and a prelude and yadda yadda yadda. For some reason, in my mind, when I think of “prologue” (because that’s really what The Lodge is, “Exordium” is just a fancy word I chose because of the whole fantasy vibe of The Face of Fear, which I swear to you, Journal, is a real book, not some ridiculous delusion I’m living) I think of “short.” Like, for whatever reason, in my mind a prologue is supposed to be shorter than all the other parts of a book, like, drastically shorter, like, if the mean chapter length is 4,200 words, then the prologue should be around 1,500, 2k max.
But that doesn’t mean it’s true. It doesn’t have to be shorter than the rest, and in my case it isn’t. Well, technically it is, by like 500 or whatever words, but it really doesn’t have to be. It doesn’t have to be anything; writing is anarchy, there are no rules (there are what lots of folks think of as rules but are actually just guidelines for the more hopeless because as long as your communication is communicating the message you want to get across then you’re doing it right, fucking fight me, I’ll clap you over the head with my fuckin’ novel, why am I so angry all of the sudden?), and it’s going to be what it’s going to be. The story will be told in the way it’s meant to be told because, like Stephen King said in not so many words, stories are not constructs of the human mind, they’re living things, they’re like artifacts we dig up, findings to be found, encoded messages from somewhere else entirely that we translate so they may be shared with whoever they’re meant to be shared with, and then some. And that’s just what it is. And that’s okay.
… … …
All right, I feel a little better. I’m just afraid that I’m doing this wrong, is all. Like, I know that I’m not, I’m super passionate and I care a lot about it (so much so that I’m afraid of fucking it up like I did with college), it’s just really important to me is all.
But I do feel better now, having put all that into words. Now I’m off to put more stuff into words, for I feel the dam swelling; the story wishes to flow.
… … …
Say thankya, Journal. ‘Preciate ya. Long days and pleasant nights~
Hello Commons, this has been the next journal entry from Untitled Bigfoot Project, a novel about a writer who writes a novel about bigfoot.
Untitled Bigfoot Project is part of the Third Spiral, an anthology of sorts called The Here and Now which is comprised of stories told from the various planes of Existence.
Untitled Bigfoot Project is available to read for free in its entirety on my website. Click here to check it out.
I’ve written a few other books, too. Click here to see the list.
If you like Untitled Bigfoot Project and would like to help support my work, click here and buy an autographed copy of the book (or anything else!) from my store. Alternatively, you can snag a cheaper (and unsigned) copy from Amazon by clicking here OR you can buy the ebook for even cheaper here.
If you’re there, hypothetical reader, thank you for being there. Be well Commons~