There was a writing prompt (somewhere) about writing a random diary entry for a character that you don't know - and the rambling below happened. Although evidently it needs editing, I quite enjoyed writing it and would like to create a character to go with it. So, what sort of person do you think the writer is? Pretentious, stuck-up? Kind, confused? Seriously, just throw adjectives at me; I suppose what I'm really looking for is inspiration.
I have set the task for myself of keeping a journal; have often meant to in the past but then used half-baked excuses to avoid it. Now that there is no correspondence to keep my tongue (or pen, I suppose) sharp, I turn to a diary. How terribly depressing.
In the past I suppose I've rather detested journal-keepers... not Anne Frank with bold, desperate words and familiar logic; or even the odious (and fictional) Adrian Mole, who redeems himself with sudden and shocking sincerity - but the idea of a diary-writer, seeing as I don't recall ever actually meeting one. No, don't bother with that at all; I'm not even sure what my idea of a diary-writer is. Someone who recounts with perfectly sharpened pencil the events of the day, as Holmes might have wanted of Watson (must find origin of nickname 'Boswell'.) Maybe someone who pours out heart and soul in ink to paper - but then I don't think you can 'pour out your soul' in the way that people think it. I've tried several times, and when I read it back I despise myself for it's melodrama.
'Putting your soul to paper' is, I think, (or would be) a long sort of process - like writing a novel and doing it indirectly. I should like one day to write something that tells the absolute truth, and is not afraid of it. Sometimes I come to write a story and I want to write one thing but put another; in the moments preceding my cowardly decision I feel as if I'm standing at the edge of an abyss, trying to muster up the courage for the jump.
There's something quite sickly and ashamed about these failures... sometimes I force myself to write as per my original intent, but then the sentence feels raw and naked on the screen - I rub it out, or leave it there to rancour. I hope this is because I haven't found the right sort of truth to tell, yet.
Dad has interrupted me to say he's ordered a short story that I wanted; Chekhov, 'The Exclamation Mark'. It's about (to quote the summary) ' a civil servant who discovers, to his horror, that he has never used an exclamation mark.'
I read an extract of it in Lynne Truss' 'Eats, shoots and leaves.' (ironically enough, I'm fairly sure I've misused the apostrophe in her name.) There was something quite grey about it, something waiting to be released - and I mentioned it to Dad. I think it became part of his mental 'List of Important Missions to Stress People out Over'. It's difficult to know with Dad, whether he's being arrogant or obliging. It's rather difficult to explain, but he can get such an expression of martyrdom-
I'm grateful for the book. He was probably being obliging, with a hint of arrogance. Maybe it's not arrogance... I can't think of the word. It's like an aged moodiness or a sort of wanting to be certain of gratitude. Whatever it is, I expect I have it in spades, so I shan't criticize it too harshly.
It's difficult to know whether or not I'm like my parents. I've been looking out for similarities recently and I keep finding myself suddenly, doing something particularly annoying that I've noted in one or the other of them. I hope it's habit, not genetics - if it is there's a chance it'll wear off, whereas otherwise I'm stuck with it for life. Either way, I suppose it would only be replaced with something as or more irritating.
Thank you! I'd love to hear your answers to my problem.
Yeah, I know it's a bit of a weird thing to ask. Thanks anyway, your reply was really useful.