Oct the Fourteenth
The manuscript of The Face of Fear is DONE! It is SCRIPTED!!!!! And HONESTLY, I have MIXED FEELINGS!!!
On one hand I love it, I love myself for doing it, for really getting it done, for telling myself I was going to do something big and then actually fucking DOING IT! On the other hand, I feel like I ended it all wrong. The last two chapters are short, like, drastically shorter than the beginning ones. One of the middle chapters tops 10,000 words and the Friday chapter is only 3,600ish. Envoi is only 2,600ish, meanwhile the Exordium is, like, 5,200, or something like that. That’s literally TWICE as long, like, what the fuck? Obviously I rushed it and I don’t give a shit and I’m a terrible writer who should never have wasted the time it took to bring the script into this world… right?
WRONG! At least, it feels wrong. Thinking like that, I mean. Sure, the “prologue” is almost as long as the last chapter and the “epilogue” combined, but so what? Does word count/page length actually matter? I told the story. I didn’t skip over any important details, I don’t think. If anything the beginning probably has fluff, right?
Ugh. I greatly dislike being an amateur, I can’t stand being so unsure of myself. A rap quote comes to mind, one of Ubiquitous’s bars: “It’s a curse if ya blessed with the gift to create but hate to see that it’s beautiful.” I feel that heavily right now. Like, I’m not Stephen King, I’m not perfect, I don’t even know how to write, I was never educated for this shit… but at the same time I want to be good, I want to be well-received, all I fuckin’ want is to be amazing! Ugh… I hope I don’t have to rewrite it. Stephen King has said many times in interviews and stuff to not be afraid of rewriting, but… it’s not that I’m afraid, it’s just like… what the fuck am I going to change? The story is a living thing, it exists elsewhere and I just translated it. Did I not translate it right? What am I missing?
Am I just freaking out for no reason because I put two and a half weeks into this crazy-ass project of mine and I’m afraid that I could have spent the time doing something better? Like what, exactly? Getting a job in town that’ll pay me just barely enough to fill my tank every week? So I can afford to take my student loan payments off my dad’s hands and have no money anyway? Should I go out there and slave away making just enough money to not save any of it? Fuck no, that makes absolutely no sense to me. So why do I feel so… bleh?
Do I even feel bleh? I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel. Maybe I don’t have mixed feelings, maybe I just have no feelings at all. To quote my short story An Hour Before Sunrise (which, by the way, zero doubts about that, that shit is killer): “Emotions, ‘man, feelings are hard. For every down there’s an up and every up brings a down.” Feeling that one too.
Ugh. Maybe I’m just new at this, Journal. Maybe it’s like… maybe it’s the dichotomy between feeling like I’m done and knowing that I’m not done, knowing that I still have a ways to go. Like, yes, the ‘script is written, but the first draft isn’t even done yet. I still have to read through it in Scrivener, name all my subchapters (I already know what some are going to be called, actually really excited for that part), and then copy and paste it into a Word document and make sure there are no unsightly justify gaps – it’ll take extra work, yes, but like Arthur David/Jason Wong said, that shit is an eyesore and little else; I don’t mind putting in the extra work to make my shit perfect, not at all… but still – and THEN the first draft will be done. Technically the first draft doesn’t even exist. Technically I haven’t even started it yet.
Huh. All that work and I haven’t even started my first draft. Well god damn xD
… … …
Maybe I’ll start today, I don’t know. It’s only reading, right? Or should I give myself a break? I don’t know yet. All I know for sure is that today’s (Log) entry will be the last one for a while. I’ll do one when each of the three drafts are done, just to see how much the word count increases (because I’m sure it will). It totaled out at 57,000-something, so I’m expecting it to land in the 60k range. Not that that matters, like, at all. Like, when you think about it, there is no logical reason for the story to be broken up into chapters and subchapters, that shit’s just to give it flair, really. At least, that’s how I feel right now. It’s not supposed to be perfectly symmetrical, things usually aren’t. Hell, not even Tori’s titties are perfectly symmetrical, but I love them anyway.
Huh. So maybe I was just psyching myself out. Maybe – hah, to quote The Face of Fear – maybe everything is as it should be, just as it always is, just as it always was, just as it always shall be. ‘Man, I wish you could read the ‘script, Journal. The way I’m talking about it makes me feel like I have a secret, one that you’ll never get to learn because I told the secret to my laptop, and you are my notebook. I won’t be writing out The Face of Fear in your pages, Journal, sorry’n’shit. Sorry not sorry. You’ll just have to sit and wonder, I guess.
… … …
Wow, this got long. Longer than I expected it to, at least. But that’s okay. Everything is as it should be, everything that happens happens because it’s supposed to happen.
And now, I’m going to give myself a break for the rest of the day, because I just finished ‘scripting my first novel, and I am actually fucking exhausted. Mentally, not physically – in fact I might go take a run – but I am exhausted nonetheless. So, peace out.
… … …
Say thankya, Journal. ‘Preciate ya. Long days and pleasant nights~
This has been the next journal entry from Untitled Bigfoot Project. Here is everything you need to know about it:
I’ve written a few other books, too. Click here to see the list.
The Hillside Commons has a Facebook page. Here’s that.
If you’re there, hypothetical reader, thank you for being there. From this day on, we move forever forward~