…bygones

I have decided today that I want to write. This happens rarely, and mostly, I don’t follow through because have difficulty finding my ‘voice’.

All writers have a ’style’ that they employ, their single voice. Someone intelligent once said that a writer will find their voice after writing over 1,000 words on a single project. I don’t think I qualify for that statistic, as I usually get frustrated with my inconsistancy well before 1,000 words have been written, and give up. Or I take a break from it, and when I get back to it, I find I can’t recreate the voice I used for that particular work, and then give up.

Or start something new.

All the questions, everytime I sit down to write: Am I snarky today? Funny? Poetic?
And then the ensuing battle in my mind; that existential undiscovery; who am I as a writer? The truth is, that I don’t know. But one conclusion becomes apparent: if I can’t be consistant, then will I be able to develop any characters with consistancy?

So, here it is: my need to plow through a novel floating around in my head, and bang out 1,000 words or more, and, I dunno, finish the darned thing, so that I can find my voice; rehearse consistancy, and then learn how to put myself into the same mental state each time I write, so that my work doesn’t end up being funny and lighthearted on one page, and then jaded and dark on the next.

By the way, I made that instant cake yesterday, and oh, me, oh, my is it sweet! Also, it looks terrible, backing up my own opinion about instant cake recipes being the root of baking evil. Mom, Dad, and myself, had a hard time eating our tiny pieces of it last night, it was so sweet, and the coffee we made to go with it did nothing to cut the sweetness.

And this is why, Luminati, I will be bringing with me on my visit, a partially eaten, cake-monster. Normally, I would never bring someone a partially eaten cake, however, we will never finish it; and therefore, I offer to you the cake to either eat, or destroy, as you see fit. In a way, it’s an honour to decide the fate of one of my baking expeditions, as I trust and value your opinion. You may either be on board with the notion of Instant-Cake-Evil, or you may value it in a new and separate genre.

I digress. Back to writing; and no, I will not write about an American Citizen who is separated from her husband one month after marriage because she’s waiting for a visa from the British Consulate. As I am living it, I can tell you it’s very boring. (Which you may, if you’ve been paying attention, have learned this already.)