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
Elementary
Sherlock
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?
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
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).
... 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...
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...
/http://dodgyprawn.tumblr.com/
And I will still be on this blog too. Why not have two? And I will only double post sometimes...
/http://dodgyprawn.tumblr.com/
And I will still be on this blog too. Why not have two? And I will only double post sometimes...
Monday, June 2, 2014
This is my blog. My litany of why I do not write, besides the seeming hypocrisy of writing a blog...
I have ideas. And, for brief glorious moments, I have the eye of a writer. That zone when I look at the world with this amazing view of what I should be copying down. When I can see scenes everywhere in the world around me - the way someone stands, or the swing of dialogue in a conversation I really should not be listening to. I often hear that writers have this moment often; for me it is rare but still glorious.
I have ideas. Ideas I will contend are actually over rated. Everyone has ideas. And anything can be in idea. A story about nothing can be a wondrous tale in itself. I have ideas. Besides, a career can be made writing about only one idea.
Angst.
The idea is universal and cannot be over done - though an individual reader needs a break - the world at large does not.
Angst.
It works as the basis for a tale for anyone that is 12 through 32. (You can get older folks with mid life crisis angst - but that will be another blog)
Angst.
Every teenager knows it. They may live it. They may post endless updates to twitter, agonizing about backstabbing friends or incredible boredom (and of course evil parents). If they do not live it? They see it in the hallways, sit beside in in second period, see the scrawled emo band lyrics on binders, they read the posts online; they know it even if they do not live it personally.
And angst does not end there. That is why this is an idea that I SHOULD write about. And so should you. Because university does not help. Ask college graduates about what comes after the hours of studying and the days of partying and there is often worry in the eyes. How many majors get changed, how often is there a sad jealousy in the stomach when friends discuss post college connections in various industries? It's bad there too.
And after college? Sending out resumes. Friends getting jobs, getting married, and there our reader is, still confused. The reader feels like there is a connection to the angst story, it reminds that reader they are not alone. And even the employed, as they sit in the cubicle, update "TPS" reports and making sure they have a cover sheet. They wonder if there is something else out there.
So why do I not write about it?
Ah, everyone has ideas. But then what? And I get to page 8 or so and the idea runs dry. I think "I will knock this out tomorrow, 8 more pages. " Never works. My own angst I guess...
If I had a reader base, this would be the point I ask for their comments on the topic, but instead, I will go surf some other blogs and see if I can make some friends that way!
I have ideas. And, for brief glorious moments, I have the eye of a writer. That zone when I look at the world with this amazing view of what I should be copying down. When I can see scenes everywhere in the world around me - the way someone stands, or the swing of dialogue in a conversation I really should not be listening to. I often hear that writers have this moment often; for me it is rare but still glorious.
I have ideas. Ideas I will contend are actually over rated. Everyone has ideas. And anything can be in idea. A story about nothing can be a wondrous tale in itself. I have ideas. Besides, a career can be made writing about only one idea.
Angst.
The idea is universal and cannot be over done - though an individual reader needs a break - the world at large does not.
Angst.
It works as the basis for a tale for anyone that is 12 through 32. (You can get older folks with mid life crisis angst - but that will be another blog)
Angst.
Every teenager knows it. They may live it. They may post endless updates to twitter, agonizing about backstabbing friends or incredible boredom (and of course evil parents). If they do not live it? They see it in the hallways, sit beside in in second period, see the scrawled emo band lyrics on binders, they read the posts online; they know it even if they do not live it personally.
And angst does not end there. That is why this is an idea that I SHOULD write about. And so should you. Because university does not help. Ask college graduates about what comes after the hours of studying and the days of partying and there is often worry in the eyes. How many majors get changed, how often is there a sad jealousy in the stomach when friends discuss post college connections in various industries? It's bad there too.
And after college? Sending out resumes. Friends getting jobs, getting married, and there our reader is, still confused. The reader feels like there is a connection to the angst story, it reminds that reader they are not alone. And even the employed, as they sit in the cubicle, update "TPS" reports and making sure they have a cover sheet. They wonder if there is something else out there.
So why do I not write about it?
Ah, everyone has ideas. But then what? And I get to page 8 or so and the idea runs dry. I think "I will knock this out tomorrow, 8 more pages. " Never works. My own angst I guess...
If I had a reader base, this would be the point I ask for their comments on the topic, but instead, I will go surf some other blogs and see if I can make some friends that way!
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