kind of like how coldplay’s chris martin dances. slight warm up, getting into it, then really just going for it.
that’s one way how first drafts can be written. no holds barred, joints all disconnected, muscles working like there’s no tomorrow. dancing like no one’s looking and you couldn’t even care less if someone was.
it’s a romantic idea. the writer who does with no food and even less sleep, driven only by inspiration and the mad need to get words on paper. they can make sense, they can be stream of consciousness as its worst, but they are wrung of blood and sweat and tears and they are a thing of beauty, dammit!
well, not so much over here. i’ve been eating lots of crap while writing this first draft. i love sugar and caffeine. i try not to drool on the computer keyboard when i fall asleep while writing because i stayed up too late the night before to clear out space on the pvr (while writing). some sentences come easily, some…not at all. i get cranky from trying to fit in chores between paragraphs. i get giddy when it gets flowing. i tend to edit as i go, too. back and forth, jerks and twitches.
but in the end, it all comes out. words on the screen=getting the work done. the dance might not be pretty or poetic or as free and exuberant as martin’s heartfelt flailings, but it’s a dance all the same.