Subdued Intrinsic

Personal Note: I don't like almost anything by Bush. *gasp!* I know. That's like a person saying (during the sixties) they didn't like The Beatles. Doesn't matter. Still don't like them. In fact, at least one of their songs kind of p*sses me off, the one about shooting up? HATE. I lived around drugs my whole childhood, I don't need a baked Brit to glorify the practice, thanks.

In the past couple of days I've realized two kind of major things about myself, things which impact my writing.

The first is all about ego. Every parent thinks his or her progeny is ultra-adorable. My theory about this has to do with seeing ourselves in our children. We're geared to rate their aesthetic more highly because they remind us of, well, us. Whether it be due to familiarity (what features are we more familiar with than our own?) or simple Narcissism, the fact remains, we think our kids look better than all the other kids out there. I think Ben is cuter than all the other babies. . . and I think my characters are more interesting, more individual, more beloved than all the characters in those OTHER books out there.

So why is that? Does Joss appeal to me so strongly because of the elements of her being that she 'inherits' from me? Like the small build? The wild love of all kinds of music, and a devotion to eighties kids' and teen flicks? Do I love her because I see myself in her? It's something I've got to watch out for. Joss isn't me, nor am I her. I don't want her 'life' to be what I wanted for myself (although, how awesome would it be to date a Dionadir, really??). It's okay if she gets a few things from me, because she's my baby. But she's not my CLONE. As far as I know, that's still illegal, anyway.

Secondly, I had this big light bulb moment about the way I tell stories. I'm going to brag here, and tell you I write really awesome, fully-developed people, then I throw them into cool worlds, and do absolutely criminal things to them for insanely complicated reasons. But my fatal flaw is tension. I SUCK at creating it, and until yesterday or so, I really couldn't have said why. Well, yesterday, I figured it out.

I'm a blurter. I have entire mounds of fascinating backgrounds, and reasonings, and what have-you details, but I want you to see them all at once. "Here! Look at ALL THE PRETTIES IN MY PILE!! I yell." The problem with that is there's no mystery, no tease, no "will she or won't she". Not good. So I'm taking the vehicle apart again, and I'm moving some 'lil sumpin' sumpin's' around so people won't know exactly what happens until, suddenly, AH-HAH!

They do.