For the record, sometimes I can be a complete goof. By goof I mean that I can be real silly. I occasionally love to put silliness in my writings. I don’t know if it ever appeared in my studio art. I always felt serious when I did my photographs and paintings. Although sometimes my thoughts transport to elsewhere and I zone out. It happened, and I loved every bit of it.
Other times I refuse to be serious with serious topics. I get aloof, poke fun, and all around silly. It’s fun. I like fun, and it breaks my occasional serious tone in stories. For example, sometimes I feel like the story needs a scene with a functional toilet. Not necessarily because someone’s gonna use it–in detail–but cause in the middle of a scene, I’m like, “what the??” I gotta figure this out, and write it.
On the flip side what if a character had to go to the bathroom in the middle of a scene, and was prevented from going? There are multiple possibilities for where this scene needs to go, and odds are I’d put more goofier stuff in there.
So as I write this post with dreadful irony; why am I taking the writing of this novel so darn seriously? Granted there are parts I’m serious about–I believe in story structure, revisions, plotting, and distinct voices for characters. That comes with the process, but I gotta un-clench on the writing. I know what’s going to happen. I gotta get it on paper, and it be fun. Otherwise I’ll be back to falling off the wagon again.
Happy creative goofiness, y’all. The sillier the better.