Well, I have run against some difficulties writing my story.
My first barrier came when I was forced by The Rule of Law and The Word of God (i.e. Courtney Larkin) to watch the events that I was supposed to be reporting on through a tiny plastic window on a locked door, in a hallway. The window was shared by five or six fellow deportees, so we were taking turns at it. The most effusive words yelled into microphones floated their way into our exile, but most of the proceedings occurred out of range of my thirsty ears. I saw 300 people vote five times to settle a single issue: the votes were so close that the results were always challenged (according to the official record). It took them 4 ½ hours to approve the agenda for the meeting: that agenda, of course, was irrelevant by the time that it was approved; the building was about to close.
Next, I realized that my whole story was changing. How could I write objectively about the events of the night, when I had been removed from the room by five police officers? I was, and still am, consumed by righteous anger. I try to write some simple thing, a description of the inane pink argyle sweater vest the Head Enforcer of the In-crowd was wearing, but foul epithets scatter throughout my prose, tying it in knots of hatred. Dick. Imbecile. Fascist.
I see I have a ways to travel before I attain the coolness with which some of the authors wrote about people they hated… Tom French did it, as did Robert Mason Lee, Chivers, and of course Norman Mailer.
This is good practice, I know. Matthew Golding committed his crimes only against the freedom of the press, not against humanity (though I have no doubt that he is capable of that, too). Someday, I will probably have to write about more terrifying criminals, and I will have to repress my emotions in those circumstances, as well. But when that time comes, I hopefully don’t have 4 other courses, and a part time job! All these things demand emotional attention, and concentration. These are not the circumstances under which I do my best writing. Or concentrating.
I wonder what Adrian Nicole LeBlanc’s day job was when she was writing Random Family. Histories disagree on whether she was employed at Seventeen at that time. Was she independently wealthy? Ironic, considering her subjects. Concentration has quickly risen to the top of my wish-list: I used to yearn for the ability to type 100/wpm, or to be able to take notes in short-hand, or to have a photographic memory. All these things, I believed (maybe still do) would make me a better writer. Now, I would settle for a little concentration. A little strength of mind. Is that so much to ask for?
Oh man Bethany, I want deets! What happened??? That sounds like quite the event! Hopefully you’ll fill us in on Wednesday…I’m curious to hear Stephen’s thoughts on how he would write in your situation, now that you’re consumed by anger. What is the role of the writer in that case?
If it’s any consolation, I’m still at square one (or thereabouts) with my story - I’m negotiating with one of my key sources to see if he’ll talk…The other one seems cool enough, but it’s no story if I don’t have both. Here’s hoping.
so
good