So I was intrigued by the flash fiction contest. Excited perhaps. I love most to be shown a picture, and then asked to write a very short story based on it. I once spent a couple hours with some friends who were also writers, and had an artist friend display pictures, and we would all write just one or two paragraphs based on the image. It was a night that created memories that I enjoy revisiting. Flash Fiction is something I am pretty good at (this is not to say that my writing is any good however). So, I thought I'd go for it, starting around 1am last night, or perhaps a half hour earlier. The very moment I was inspired the world erupted into life around me. Lights being turned on , and then off. Dishes clattering in the sink, water running, the dishwasher being run. More lights going on and off, and on and on for a good hour (very long story about my living situation, and I really am not comfortable detailing it). By the time it was over, inspiration had taken its usual place. You know where I mean. Said "place" is about 4.8billion light years away, hidden behind dust clouds in a galaxy that's not even been observed yet. At this point, I was pretty much , well, I was pissed off. Out of raw defiance and stubbornness, I determined that I was simply going to stay up until the story was written. Even if that meant 8am or later. At 3am, I finally hit 500 words, and clicked "save" on what is likely the single worst piece of fiction I have ever created. If anyone around here has an intimate understanding of this infuriating situation, I think right now I just need to know I'm not alone. Advice is always appreciated, but I think right now I would just like to see other peoples stories of how this happened to them (if indeed anyone has been through something similar). (and yes, it's 24hours later and I'm still in this funk over it all. It is a bit of a flaw I need to work on.)
You're being harsh on yourself; I'd call that stoicism and dedication. My intimate understanding sits on the other side of your coin, ideas aplenty but seeing something through; well that's where I sometimes/often fail. Swapsies for a day or two? Anyhow; some light: you documenting your plight made an interesting read.
When I am engrossed in a book I am oblivious to my surroundings. Yelling kids, phone ringing, knocks on the door, all go unnoticed and unheeded. I have even missed the call "Dinners ready!", and been dished up either a stone cold or shrivelled desiccated meal hours later when I've surfaced. With my writing the situation is exactly the same, so much so my family make no effort to keep the noise down. I'll say something like, "I'll be right up as soon as I finish this and walk the dog." Next thingI know it's earily quiet, it's 3am, and the dog is scratching at my legs, practically cross-legged in his desperation to be out. So, sorry, I'm afraid I cannot relate to your situation.
Raw defiance and stubbornness is the default writing mode of most people. Writing is hard work, and inspiration comes while you work. Those 500 words might very well be the single worst piece of fiction you ever created. The good news is that you can WORK at it, and turn it into something you can be proud of.
It is for this very reason I write in the middle of the night when the household us asleep. I cannot think with tv's, conversation, washing machines etc. So frustrating when you are in the creative mood and it is taken away through general domesticity. My dream is a shed at the bottom of the garden that I can lock from the inside to keep everyone else out.
Actually, now that I look at that title and the post, I realize I never really defined "snowflake" as "inspiration" and "hell" as the cacophony of life around me. lol
