Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Horror Flicks? Really?

So everyone has their own creative process. Proust, for example, spent all day lazing about in bed when he was writing. Another author (I think it was Faulkner?) would lock himself in a room for hours, days, to perfect a single sentence. 

A lot of writers listen to music, or sit in cafes or take nature walks.  All wonderful, lovely, gateways into the creative spirit.


I watch cheesy horror flicks in the middle of the night.

I like music and sidewalk cafes and nature and lord knows I love sleep. And I can write in all of those environments (except maybe sleep) but there's never a breakthrough, an insight into my characters or one of those phrases that you write and all of a sudden you're like 'Hey, that was really good!'

If I got a full nights sleep, woke up at six in the morning, fixed myself a cup of coffee (or tea depending on my mood) and sat down to write, I'd get out a paragraph. A page at most. I know. I've tried it.

But when I'm sleep deprived, at three o'clock in the morning watching some awful creation from the eighties, pure gold. My characters makes sense, my villains (always a constant struggle for me, I'm too picky about them) start to become sympathetic and the plot starts to unfold. (I can't tell you how often I find myself writing with absolutely no idea what's going to happen next.)

It's not so much the timing that's a blow to my ego - I've always been a night owl - but the subject matter. Couldn't I find inspiration watching French Film Noir, or Indie films that don't really make sense but we all pretend they do so people will think we're cool? Why in the world is it cheesy horror flicks?

Seriously, when I'm older, and published (it will happen!) that's just going to be awkward.

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