I’m so glad to have attended that lecture last night, it’s made me intoxicated at the thought of the writing process. To the point where I’ve spent a good majority of the day going through my proposal/first chapter with a knife, cutting words and sentences, thoughts that don’t go anywhere, seem wasteful. Writing is rewriting, or so I’ve been told, and this is where the challenge comes into play. I cannot get so attached to my words that I’m afraid to cut them. I can’t become so attached to an idea that it forces my pen in one way or another. I must simply write. Without hesitation or thought. And in rewriting, I must do this again. Just write. And then again, and again. I’m excited about where this will lead me, and excited to be spending the next week before Christmas vacation, fully focused on the task at hand.
I went out tonight, to a King’s game with a good friend. When I started to leave, post game, I was walking up the stairs, and someone called out Penny. A man asked if my name is Penny. It’s been awhile…
Man on Stairs: Penny? Is your name Penny?
Me: Jennie. My name is Jennie.
Man on Stairs: Yeah, but was your name once Penny?
I turned and walked away rather abruptly. I grabbed my friend’s hand and dragged him with me, throwing his arm around my shoulder as if that would keep me as Jennie, as if that would make kill the fact that I am just as easily recognized as Penny. Looking back, I feel like a piece of shit for just turning and running. The guy probably has no idea what’s been going on in my life, and if he did, he would have called me Jennie. Just a guy who liked Penny Flame. He didn’t do anything wrong. No reason for me to run.
But I did.
I just didn’t know where the conversation could go from there, so I bounced with the quickness. Would he tell me his favorite scenes? Would he want a picture with me? Would he want to know my favorite position? Or the last time I sucked cock? I didn’t feel prepared to answer anybodies questions regarding Penny, even if it was just a friendly hello and no question at all. I wish there was a way to do that over. To smile politely and shake his hand. Or tell him Penny has died a terrible death and I’m now occupying her body and living a fabulous life. But there isn’t. So this is something I will have to let go.
It’s a shame we can’t rewrite life isn’t it? That’s why movies are so fantastic. Enough people have had their hands in the creation of a script that magical things can happen, the perfect comeback, the most tragically romantic goodbye. And I suppose in a sense I can rewrite life. Every morning I wake up there is a chance at being met by a person on the street who wishes to talk to Penny. Next time I can give them a chance. See where the conversation leads before running away. Rewrite that last scene and do it a better way. But I can’t take a knife and cut the parts I dislike. I can only learn where the writing fell off course and plan for something different.