Writing about writing

From the anime KimiKiss Pure Rouge (I keep spelling it Rogue, but actually it is probably because it has an insane amount of blushing). Anyway, the meaning will make sense further down.

Things have their ebb and flow, and right now my creative writing has its ebb. It may look like it is not just the creative, but I have actually been writing some pretty groundbreaking non-fiction too. Unfortunately it is not ready to be shared, I think.  I guess this goes into the “bottom of the iceberg” for now.

Also for the benefit of my writing, I have watched Japanese high school love anime.  First I reviewed my favorite episodes of the series Hatsukoi (meaning First love).  Well, that one is partly about middle schoolers too.  As such, it is fairly decent, although it did have more vaguely erotic moments than I remembered.

Then I started watching KimiKiss Pure Rouge, another similar series which (like Hatsukoi) was not very well received by fans.  Traditionally school love anime has either been about one couple and their rivals, or one boy and a circle of different girls.  The first type is usually aimed at girls, the second at boys.  Oh, the surprise!  I am actually writing a story about a boy and his relationship (or lack thereof) with a number of girls, mostly in the Literature club at his school.  Unsurprisingly, the working title is Closed Books.

Both Hatsukoi and KimiKiss Pure Rouge, however, have a number of different pairings and especially love triangles.  KimiKiss has, from what I can see so far, three different male protagonists each with two different love interests.  They are generally not very honest with themselves either.  I guess that is business as usual, but when the three main character are blandly deceiving themselves despite intrusive memories of their real feelings, it becomes a little like parody, I think. I am a bit past halfway and I find it kind of hard to watch now.

Anyway, I think I just realized something pretty important when writing about love.  See, the problem is not really that I don’t know much about sex. This is a story about high schoolers, and if they are lucky, they don’t know much about sex either. The difference is that I don’t know much about loneliness. Barely anything at all.  A few minutes a few times in a lifetime. Perhaps an hour in total?

Ah, this may be hard.  Just when I think I have this “being human” thing down, I suddenly come upon something like this. Not that I am complaining, mind you. The thought of being alone, without the Presence, is like Hell itself.

Perhaps I should write about being a sixth-dimensional programmer instead, but who in their right mind would read that? People don’t even believe in the fifth dimension, even though it only takes a few minutes ridiculously simple practice each day for a while to begin sensing it.

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