Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Saturday, February 05, 2011
The other day I got to just sit and talk with my sister. I was in the middle of something, and she was on her way to something, but things went into to slow motion for a bit, and it was nice. I don't spend as much time with anyone in my family as I'd like to, and sometimes it seems like people you are around the most are the most difficult to open up to, so those factors are what went into making it nice I suppose.
Thursday, February 03, 2011
Be Thou My Vision
Right now, I'm writing a story, a framework for a screenplay. I'm fighting the entire time against the instinct to shun any elements that I feel like I've seen before.
I love original work, I love the filmmakers that reach for the heavens, so much so I give a free pass to those who only make it to the clouds.
But I don't feel like trying to be original is what gets you there. Originality for it's own sake deadly, no, worse, it's tedious.
But here I come, time and time again, horrified at the prospect of my work being received as "unoriginal."
Writing from my insecurities is always a very dangerous temptation for me.
But great writing, as far as I can tell, doesn't come from looking over your shoulder every five seconds to see what "they" think of you. It comes from a clear head and clear vision. Originality will come, I believe that. But not if I call for it. It's a byproduct, and it knows that. It's modesty, humility, will not allow it to take the place of storytelling, art-making's true king: Truth.
I feel very pretentious writing that sentence. But I believe it; I have to. I would wither up if my art was to aim for something else, mainly because there is nothing else.
I love original work, I love the filmmakers that reach for the heavens, so much so I give a free pass to those who only make it to the clouds.
But I don't feel like trying to be original is what gets you there. Originality for it's own sake deadly, no, worse, it's tedious.
But here I come, time and time again, horrified at the prospect of my work being received as "unoriginal."
Writing from my insecurities is always a very dangerous temptation for me.
But great writing, as far as I can tell, doesn't come from looking over your shoulder every five seconds to see what "they" think of you. It comes from a clear head and clear vision. Originality will come, I believe that. But not if I call for it. It's a byproduct, and it knows that. It's modesty, humility, will not allow it to take the place of storytelling, art-making's true king: Truth.
I feel very pretentious writing that sentence. But I believe it; I have to. I would wither up if my art was to aim for something else, mainly because there is nothing else.
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