Sunday, October 25, 2015

And in a few days, the write a novel in a month mess will begin, and I hope to be write there in the middle of things, causing chaos as I can and writing what I usually cannot.

I had a cappuccino with three small pulls of coffee in it.  We will see where this takes me in life.  Coffee is held up as such a huge writing tool, but it has not been my thing yet.

But I am wide awake at the moment, and posting to this blog for the first time in a long while.  Yup, joining a writing group was a good idea.  

Monday, July 21, 2014

Networking. (or NOTworking?)

So, writers need to network. 

They need to get out there and connect with other writers, maybe have a cadre of friends they work with and while not quite collaborate, they have allies in the effort.

So, I am reluctant to try that
- I do not want to bother anyone.
- the writers I do know are getting it done, not wanting to break that up
- what if I never write - I wasted their time
- what if I never write - I wasted our time
- what if I am worse than I thought?
- what if I get distracted by other things like I did when writing this blog?

and I am sure there are other reasons as well, but that is my update for the moment.

Saturday, July 5, 2014

Poets Bring us all together, or at least 3 of us

Did I quit updating my blog? 

Of course not.  Here I am right now.  Just a week later than I should be.  

Here I am, and before I sputter out, I better do some explaining.

Life caught up with me, and that is not a good thing.  By nature, life is a rather dull thing that I have a lot of fun doing.  But I will not lie and claim I lead the life of any dynamic character.  Indeed, I will rank myself among the dozen most boring souls on this side of the St. Lawrence.  (Mississippi too overdone, you know that.)  Now I usually have no complaints, I enjoy the simple things and have more than a mere "streak" of laziness.  But this time it cost me an update of the blog I love so dearly. 

I got caught up watching tv, reading about Henry Himmler, playing video games, eating, trying to shake off the results of eating by walking... so nothing at all.   But it happened, and I am ashamed in a small way that I went silent for a while.  But I am back.  And in case you might be thinking, surely you did something more than that?   No, I really did not.  That just summed up the last two weeks to a perfect precis.   Not a single detail missing, except perhaps understating the amount of nothing I did.

Today, I decided to live again. 

I am in a bookstore today up in a great college town.  As I am perusing the shelves, I notice a lady doing some perusing of her own.  Being that kind of guy at times, I made the vocal observation that she was in the poetry section.  I immediately admitted I was a frequent flier in that section and BAM - conversation exploded.  In case you are wondering why this would trigger a conversation - who the heck checks out poetry sections?  If you just thought, (I DO) you are a rare creature. 

Why is this a writing topic then?   Because how well we connected over the topic of poetry is a sign of how rare a creature we readers of such odd writings have become.  When her husband arrived and admitted he too was a reader of poetry, indeed, he was clutching a copy of Stephen Dobyn's Velocities; the cosmos nearly came to a close right there,   I would like to name drop, but she may not appreciate the attention, but when she indicated she was a published writer of poetry herself, well, I was impressed and thrilled to meet her.   She confessed to a rather small readership, but the fact she put herself out there and is getting the job done triggered a sense of guilt that I am not doing the same.

"Do you write?"   Yup, the ask was made.  I shook my head, as updating a blog on occasion about why I don't write is hardly the stuff that makes a writer.

But it was a pleasure to meet her and her husband, and when she does a poetry reading, I will be there.  

Getting herself out there, what we all should be doing... whatever out there may mean for any of us...

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

I went silent.   Almost a week.  Perhaps by the time I finish this post, let it marinate and then publish it, there may be more than a week passed me by.

I will blame summer. 

Too much free time brings an emptiness of schedule casting an odd malaise of soul and spirit I guess.   But I will also blame Sons of Anarchy, since I have lost 66 hours this week watching seasons 1-5.  That is a lot of time gone, yet I hesitate to say wasted.   Let me get back to that in a moment.

I will often argue that reality tv has killed tv, but I am wrong.  I truly believe some of the best shows in history are on right now.  The depth of the stories and the characters on so many shows contrast the vast wasteland of watching fake lives on tv...

Here is my list of what I watch, just to give context to my thoughts today.  Actual list.

Mad Men
The Mentalist
The Walking Dead
Game of Thrones

So, let us begin.

How the heck does a writer knock out anti-heroes that do what these shows have them do?  Hank Moody, Sherlock, any one of the Sons, any one of the Game of Thrones ensemble... brilliant at times, all of them. 

So wasting 66 hours is not really a waste, because it gave me a hard look at how lame any character I have ever attempted to create really is.   Darn it.

Why don't I write?  How can I compete with that brilliance?

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

Out Walking Again

So, I was out walking today, hoping I would have a moment of inspiration...  here is what happened.

...  saw a cat lying out in the middle of the road. It was very alive, just decided to lay down in the middle of the road.

... stepped around dozens of puddles and had to keep my wits about me so no car was able to give me the business with those puddles.

...listened to a literary podcast that did NOT give me any inspiration at all, and that disappointed me.  Won't bash the podcast though, since it did keep me occupied for most of the walk.

... walked a different path from the normal one I do four or five laps of a day.  Took a new road, no Robert Frost appeared.

... put a leg up on a bench, killed the volume in the ears and took deep breaths with the nose and eyes, breathing in and viewing in.  What will jump out at me, perhaps some "Ode on a Metal Bench" moment.  

...  saw someone I had not seen a while but did not really talk - merely acknowledged it had been a while.

... did some battles with the normal stress demons that haunt me when allowed free time, and I have way too much of that for a while.

... thought about the Great Gatsby.

... kept the pace slow so I did not work up a sweat, just wanted to see if anything jumped out at me to write about.   I really just gave the greatest hits package.  I probably thought about Pepsi too, but that is just my addiction that I always think about... not really a writing topic.

So, why don't I write?   Here is today!  (I know, this is writing, but not what I mean...)

and then a post scrip of sorts, after I allowed this to marinate for a while before I posted...

Upon further reflection, I suppose the poet (that is not in me) can attack the opening of the walk. The cat in the road, just laying there... well that screams out metaphor and life commentary I guess. But not a poet today (or really ever).  

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Walking with the Librarian

As I am out walking tonight I shared a few steps with a librarian.   Not metaphorically.  I actually walked with a librarian for a while.   I asked her what books people seemed to check out and enjoy the most.  Perhaps I will tap into something here I can use...

She told me it was the familiar.  The readers that came in most often were people of routine, and they liked books of routine.   They liked familiar stories, form stories, and stories that had an action hero that came out on top or romantic stories that a woman was treated well.   They were willing to read the same story over and over again, merely changing the character's names and setting a bit.  

I guess that is why certain writers are so successful... and why some truly great talents get ignored... give the people what they want...

So, this is a blog about why I don't write.  

Maybe that is reason # 89 why.   What if I don't always see the happy ending?   There is a reason I think the greatest American book is the Great Gatsby.   Because nothing is what it seems for so many.  Thoreau said that many men lead lives of quiet desperation.   What if there is only happiness in ignorance of reality?   What if dreams are not meant to come true, because when they do, we find out... well, we find out something.   That is the stuff of literature.  

By the way, I am a relatively happy guy.   I am not bemoaning the loss of the American dream in my daily life, but perhaps to become I writer, I should...

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

A Second Blog - Yup.

Double dipping, hoping to find a reader or two out there, maybe someone will chime in with like thoughts...


And I will still be on this blog too.  Why not have two?   And I will only double post sometimes...