So, I aim to avoid cliches or work that borrows to heavily from something else I have read (although sometimes I am so tempted to pay homage to the far-from-original books I read that are rife with temptingly-imitative work). Having said that after a long day's work I enjoy a good cliche every now and then especially the one's that make me seem more "normal" and go really well with a nice chamomile tea. I strive to be me -which involves a lot of time trying to figure out who or what that even is? It is one thing to want to be me (and that's the easy part), but that involves knowing who or what that is and where I can buy some if I'm all out or if some of the parts are defective. I want my words to sound like they came from me and I want the ideas to be original and I want others to be impressed that someone could sound so much like themselves and be so original in these nefarious times in which we live and then I want to be pleased that they are so impressed (I know I'm asking for a lot, but I am going out of my way to imagine longer and longer interactions with people these days to fill up the afternoons. You know it is harder than you think maintaining conversations and relationships with over 10 people at a time all of them more imaginary then the next and yet all more real than me on weekends). I guess what I'm saying is that I want the writing to be uniquely my voice (specifically that voice in my head - it NEEDS a way to express itself or else it starts to hurt my brain and only a massage - SUPER hard to do and he never reciprocates, like never) and I'm hoping that if/when the writing sounds like me, it also doesn't sound like something Joe and Jeannie next door would also write (their writing is ridiculously upbeat and positive and as saccharin as it is, they paint a deliciously desirable world that I wouldn't want to live in, but I could see myself visiting occasionally, if for no other reason than the occasional pony ride or ice cream sundae).
So, my brain thinks these random thoughts and my fingers start type, type, typing away. I like to think of my fingers as conduits for my brain as that always makes me giggle..."conduits"...ha ha ha. One idea leads to another and then another (often interrupted by multiple tangents and interjections (actually, I've always wanted to insert a tangent inside a tangent to see what happens - Hey! I''m doing it right now! Wow - this is cool! And it is snowing in here! You should come check this out! I mean if you're not too busy) Hello? Is he gone? It is hard to keep him out sometimes, Mr. Typy Face with his whimsical comments that only he finds funny - doesn't he understand that all of the bracketed insertions make it REALLY hard to read and follow what is going on? Does he care? Or is this his obscure, near-robotic way of showing that he cares? And it is one thing to let me jump in every now and then to toss in my two cents and my jokes and comments, but then he let's more voices in? Is that some sort of not-so-subtle commentary on my job performance? Am I being phased out? Are my comments so obtuse and vague that he needs that other dude to jump in and clarify the clarifier?) and then another and the next thing you know another blog entry is complete. It is a moment of beauty unless your eyes are closed and then it is just dark. But I am making it sound easy, because it is - you should try it - it ain't hard lifting (aside from the actual hard lifting I occasionally do just for perspective's sake).
Now, having said that it is all random is completely false (why did I spend the first paragraph saying that it was? good question!) - it is mostly random, but not all. I usually have a title or an idea or a theme. If I had to choose, I'd prefer a theme and can I have mine toasted with a side of jam? Once I have my starter, it sits there for an indefinite amount of time and in the deep recesses of my brain, slowly at first and then growing to a dull roar or a loud hum, things start to happen. If you are the sort of person who needs an analogy right around now, let's say it is sort of like a room full of bouncy balls. I actually don't think it is like that at all, but you were the one who wanted an analogy and I was pressed for time, and I just love bouncy balls - so there! (Don't complain, I was also tempted to compare it to a hoard of crazed pigs who have decided to extract revenge for all of the ham hocks and bacon as a way to remember my childhood.) Then one day, I sit at my computer (as I am now) or a I take out my phone (I'm doing that too) or use my wife's tablet (got that as well -good thing I keep a prosthetic arm around for these rare, although becoming increasingly more common, moments when I just need a third hand) or decide to take a shower (I am enjoying the hot, steamy shower as I type this too! What? You say the water may destroy all of the electronics I am also using? "Pish posh" I say to that, even though neither of us knows precisely what that means) and the ideas just flow from me similar to the water flowing out of the shower head or the tea leaves that I decided to prematurely release from their "prisons" when I cut open all of the bags (my wife has asked me to stop "freeing the leaves" and I just shake my head at her until she gives up and exits the room and then I free the leaves once again.) The next thing you know I am done and I am able to either lean back or take a step back (sometimes I lean and step back at the same time which I believe is known colloquially as "letting your backbone slide") or dance a little jig (it all depends on whether I am standing or sitting and in a dancing mood - it also depends on whether the moon is waxing or waning at the moment) - all to show my sense of accomplishment to anyone who may be near by. Once done, I save my work and I always try to put aside some time for self-reflection. This year I have chosen August.
Now, in order to write, I need to provide nourishment for my body and brain. I mean I don't need to but it just seems right and I think I read it in Cosmo. I also have considered only feeding my brain or my body just to save money on food costs (the brain is such a picky eater too). I'm sure if I didn't nourish myself then I could still write (it's not brain surgery, as I specifically requested that it not be) and it would most likely be way out there (where is "way out there" by the way? I've alway wanted to know- seems like a pretty interesting and different place to go and visit - not your usual boring destination. And once you are there, do you know you are there? Is it labelled some way? Or do people just motion you to keep going away until you are out of earshot and eyesight (this happens all the time to me- I almost fell backwards into a pool once but just missed and fell into a bush which ended up being fortunate as I found a quarter in the bush. "That bush is money!" I said to no one in particular which is good because they probably would have slapped me with their boot). Wait a second- double brackets again? How do they keep popping up? Too confusing! Well-meaning! And fun! Nothing like some confusing, well-meaning fun to break up the monotony of the easy-to-understand, hurtful and boring existence we all usually keep. (I wonder what would happen to me if "they" outlawed the use of brackets as a literary devise and didn't allow me to use quotes as a simple fix. And who are "they" anyways and why do I have to listen to them in the first place? Say what? Why am I questioning myself and answering those questions? What would you prefer I do? Don't answer!) Anyways I'm sure "way out there" is great and all, I just want to know to if you continue to act strange when you are there, do people say "you are way out there...oh wait a second, we are all already 'wait out there'. And that guy is even more way out there then us. Dude he is...where is he?" I guess you run out of places - I plan to retire in that place - the one beyond way out there.) So nourishment - it's healthy, it just seems like a good idea and it helps with the writing. Writing would happen anyway even with out it and would possibly be better or least less pompous and privileged, but if you are too weak to sit up and type and think, then what good are you? (Sorry, that sounded harsh- I'm sure you are still great although if you could sit up and type you'd be even more spectacular).
Often I write first thing in the morning from 6:30 till 7:00. My alarm goes off, I sit up, slap myself silly (an activity in and of itself) and go downstairs (I wanted to say that "I go downtown" with lots of cool attitude and inflection but it just isn't at all accurate. I live and write quite far from downtown). I'm exhausted in the morning but I forge on not unlike a warrior heading off for battle and yet not like that at all either -that warrior would be in heaps of trouble! I eat a blueberry muffin and write. Often when I first wake up I have some fresh ideas in my head from my dreams and other times my head is empty and devoid of anything usable and other times I happen to be writing a piece that is aiming to be devoid and it almost writes itself (these don't write themselves no matter how often or nicely I ask. Between you and me those devoid piece are a pain in the ass although I can't help but respect them and I often wait by the phone on Friday nights just waiting for them to call). So we sit there, blueberry muffin and I, one of us about to be eaten (a reoccurring dream I have is of a giant, hungry blueberry muffin who just can't convince himself to eat me no matter how much I doll myself up or cover myself in a variety of expensive jellies and jams as he is a lonely muffin and would prefer to have a friend - with the relationship being eerily similar to that of a cat and a mouse except with infinitely more blueberry stains and he seems to genuinely want me to live. Also, in moments of true caring and sympathy he let's me nibble his top, although I usually feel a bit guilty and still hungry afterwards).
Usually, after eating, the ideas flow nicely but what I find is that when I'm tired and still half asleep, the characters are more tired, grumpy, and short with each other then when I'm awake and they seem to want to revolt against me but are just too tired or can't be bothered to do so. And I often think - what? I'm not even worth revolting against? You good-for-nothing lazy characters! (I'm sorry, I'm sorry - you know how much I need you almost as much as I need that endless supply of cream cheese.) Characters seem to need more sleep or more food before they can be their usual charming, exciting and witty selves (and up for revolting too from what I can surmise). If I write after breakfast or lunch then I feel energized and the writing and the characters respond as if they have just been given a shot of adrenaline (they haven't- I did look into it, but I didn't quite understand how to literarily shoot a fictional set of characters with adrenalin and it just didn't seem ethical or moral and I have been trying to be both more ethical and moral this week or at least less annoying and sarcastic. It's a fine line. Someday I hope to evolve into some kind of Ethical Sarcastic superman if you will...I can't believe I shared that right now). So the characters wake up and get "funny" when I do. Sometimes I have to wake them up like a mom arousing my sleepy kids before school - not sure why I am a mom and not a dad, since I am an actual dad, in this scenario...could be worth looking into) As the day winds down, the writing gets slow and methodical and less bright and interesting although we are also nicely full after a good dinner (or even a bad dinner or a ho-hum dinner - they all work). So, no big revelation here- the writing and characters go as I go - they come from me and I am their lifeblood (although, I have learned the hard way to not bleed while writing or to make characters bleed to much or too often as it just grosses everyone out. Not that I'm afraid to make characters bleed! Nope, I will go there if i have to! If the moment arrives I'll cut you! No! Not you! The characters. I would never cut you, even if you begged and pleaded. Why would you do that? Hey I'm not you- I'm just the guy who conveniently uses brackets to talk to himself as seems much more socially acceptable - let's just hope societal conventions don't shift as I'm writing.)
Counter-intuitively, I do notice that some of the best ideas and most prolific writing periods happen later in the evening as I'm starting to get ready for bed. Not sure why, but it is the best, most creative time of day by far. That time before bed is a veritable goldmine of zippy ideas and snappy remarks. It's so great sometimes I can be seen bouncy in my seat as I type away. I'll sit there with nary a break and just bang the keys one after another loving the click clack sounds they make and slightly less so the actual words typed. I'm a huge fan of click clack sounds and I feel that my life so far has sort of been one humble man's harrowing, death-defying search for more and more things that make those sounds. A story I like to call "Dallas Buyers Club" as it will hopefully lead to more readers. So I just sit there clicking and clacking away having a grand ol' time and feeling equal parts proud, joyful and creative with undertones of guilt (not sure why, it's always there sort of like a thin layer of moss or wax, which I also have in my inner-ear - wax not moss. I should clean it at some point as the blockage is causing me to mishear approximately every 8th word making for lots of hi-jinks). Then when all is said and done, I save my work and go to bed only to lie down, close my eyes and start to dream again (usually in that order).
So I've determined that the ideas are at least partially random or at least on the spectrum (not the autism or electromagnetic wave spectra, the randomness one). The next question you may have for me is why haven't you considered some sort of wig or hair grafting? Or you may be wondering what cheeses to mix for an excellent sauce for your steamed green beans? A few others may be wondering "what's up?" and I keep telling you "not much". You should be wondering when I think of ideas (should is almost definitely the wrong word - who am I to tell you what you should be thinking? I should be consulting you! And then you could tell me what I should tell you so you could ask me the right question.) I find the best ideas always come in the middle of a hard, sweaty workout - either a pounding, cough-inducing, bad-on-my-knees-and-back run; an invigorating, heart-pumping, interval-filled bike ride or a stretching-filled, mentally challenging, wet-dizzy-mess of a hot yoga class. Not sure why, but my mind goes to weird, creative, bizarre places when my body is being worked. I start the run, the ride, the yoga and the breathing kicks in and then bing, bang, boom - idea, idea, idea! They just come to me like cute little bunny rabbits come to me in my dreams. I am running in a field highlighted by dandelions, laughing joyfully and bouncing off the ground almost as if gravity applied less to me then others, and just when it seems that I couldn't be any happier, dozens of the cutest, most adorable little bunny rabbits appear out of nowhere and I toss them in the air, hug them and roll around on the ground with them full of love, accidentally crushing a few of them (which comes back to haunt me later in the dream). I know I should try to stay present with my thoughts when I exercise - focus on breathing, think of my goals, push myself harder and harder, but these ideas attack me and I willingly give into their sensuality, their aroma, their gentle, yet firm touch which is almost saying "you, young man (they are so kind), come with us now. That was not meant to sound like a choice. Drop what you are doing and come with us now!" So I go - who am I to say "no" to these ideas? When the exercise is over, the first thing I do after showering is get dressed. It just makes sense in this day and age. After that I take out my phone or run to the computer and I quickly get all of the new gems down never quite remembering all of them. Some of them are lost forever. And it is for those fallen, dying, unrealized ideas that I proudly and bravely march on (actually that is completely false - I feel nothing for them at all) and continue to write.
And then, at some point, after a small bit of editing, botox and revising, I am done a new piece of writing. The sense of accomplishment is unreal. When I'm done a whole piece of writing, I look dramatically at the screen, press "publish", and push back from the desk with feeling. I jump up, pump my fist, and back away from the computer with arms raised. I almost expect a ticker tape parade or if ticker tape machines are obsolete, I'd settle for simply a tape parade with high quality double-sided tape being my first choice and duct tape being less so. I envision myself finishing a race; panting, keeled over, face flushed and suffering from both cramps and dehydration. I look around the empty room wishing I either had someone to high-five or that it is more socially acceptable to hug yourself. I settle on either high-fiving the wall (big mistake!) or hugging the wall (super-embarrassing to be caught in the act of if anyone enters the room, even the cat. I did ask for a store mannequin for my birthday, but did I get what I asked for?!?!? Nope - everyone thought I was joking! It's me, people!). And by the way, finishing a new piece of writing is not anything like giving birth, so I'm not even going to explore this analogy (wow - I'm shocked!) and I'm ignoring the urge to go into a huge gestation tangent as it is too early in the morning for that, I just ate and I'll need to spend more time researching in the field first.
Usually, after eating, the ideas flow nicely but what I find is that when I'm tired and still half asleep, the characters are more tired, grumpy, and short with each other then when I'm awake and they seem to want to revolt against me but are just too tired or can't be bothered to do so. And I often think - what? I'm not even worth revolting against? You good-for-nothing lazy characters! (I'm sorry, I'm sorry - you know how much I need you almost as much as I need that endless supply of cream cheese.) Characters seem to need more sleep or more food before they can be their usual charming, exciting and witty selves (and up for revolting too from what I can surmise). If I write after breakfast or lunch then I feel energized and the writing and the characters respond as if they have just been given a shot of adrenaline (they haven't- I did look into it, but I didn't quite understand how to literarily shoot a fictional set of characters with adrenalin and it just didn't seem ethical or moral and I have been trying to be both more ethical and moral this week or at least less annoying and sarcastic. It's a fine line. Someday I hope to evolve into some kind of Ethical Sarcastic superman if you will...I can't believe I shared that right now). So the characters wake up and get "funny" when I do. Sometimes I have to wake them up like a mom arousing my sleepy kids before school - not sure why I am a mom and not a dad, since I am an actual dad, in this scenario...could be worth looking into) As the day winds down, the writing gets slow and methodical and less bright and interesting although we are also nicely full after a good dinner (or even a bad dinner or a ho-hum dinner - they all work). So, no big revelation here- the writing and characters go as I go - they come from me and I am their lifeblood (although, I have learned the hard way to not bleed while writing or to make characters bleed to much or too often as it just grosses everyone out. Not that I'm afraid to make characters bleed! Nope, I will go there if i have to! If the moment arrives I'll cut you! No! Not you! The characters. I would never cut you, even if you begged and pleaded. Why would you do that? Hey I'm not you- I'm just the guy who conveniently uses brackets to talk to himself as seems much more socially acceptable - let's just hope societal conventions don't shift as I'm writing.)
Counter-intuitively, I do notice that some of the best ideas and most prolific writing periods happen later in the evening as I'm starting to get ready for bed. Not sure why, but it is the best, most creative time of day by far. That time before bed is a veritable goldmine of zippy ideas and snappy remarks. It's so great sometimes I can be seen bouncy in my seat as I type away. I'll sit there with nary a break and just bang the keys one after another loving the click clack sounds they make and slightly less so the actual words typed. I'm a huge fan of click clack sounds and I feel that my life so far has sort of been one humble man's harrowing, death-defying search for more and more things that make those sounds. A story I like to call "Dallas Buyers Club" as it will hopefully lead to more readers. So I just sit there clicking and clacking away having a grand ol' time and feeling equal parts proud, joyful and creative with undertones of guilt (not sure why, it's always there sort of like a thin layer of moss or wax, which I also have in my inner-ear - wax not moss. I should clean it at some point as the blockage is causing me to mishear approximately every 8th word making for lots of hi-jinks). Then when all is said and done, I save my work and go to bed only to lie down, close my eyes and start to dream again (usually in that order).
Ideally I am trying to make all of the readers laugh (you're welcome!), but let's not kid ourselves (or at least, let's take a break from kidding ourselves for the rest of the week- I just think a break would be a good idea. Plus I'm getting fairly tired and with a few days off we will all look forward to the next episode), I want to make myself laugh first and foremost. It would be great, clearly, for all of us to be laughing as me crying and you laughing seems mean and you crying and me laughing seems vindictive and having us either all crying or all angry sounds more fitting for a different author (although I may play one of those "cards" later on - the "all crying one" could be good if we want to come across as more sensitive so our girl/boy friends see that we care and the "all angry one" could be useful if the time for the revolution has come - I'm guessing that if we are all laughing for the revolution we will be deemed with hysterical and unfit to fight and locked away until sufficient time has been set aside to 'study' us and if we are all crying for the revolution we will probably be given the job of sewing uniforms). So when I write I am trying to make myself laugh- not necessarily out loud (my laugh is a bit of a sniff to tell the truth) but I'm aiming more for a full-body laugh that includes everyone especially the typically grumpy body parts (I'm looking at you chin and shins). Not that I need to be laughing, but having said that, it totally takes away from the pain of all of my gaping wounds both mental and physical (the gaping physical wounds are mostly figments of my imagination). So if you find yourself amused or bemused (I don't think demused is either a goal of mine, an actual feeling or even a real word, but if you want to feel it and walk around being all demused and emo, then you be that) as a result of reading things I wrote then I feel like this hasn't all been a huge waste of time (let's not go so far as saying it wasn't a waste of time at all - I mean let's not fool ourselves, or at least you can fool yourself. Who am I too rain on the parade of "wasting time" in the first place? People are always poo pooing the wasting of time and there are far worse things you can poo poo. Like poo for example (Those last two sentences were purely for the joy of my two young daughters, aged 8 and 6, if you also enjoyed them...good?)).
So I've determined that the ideas are at least partially random or at least on the spectrum (not the autism or electromagnetic wave spectra, the randomness one). The next question you may have for me is why haven't you considered some sort of wig or hair grafting? Or you may be wondering what cheeses to mix for an excellent sauce for your steamed green beans? A few others may be wondering "what's up?" and I keep telling you "not much". You should be wondering when I think of ideas (should is almost definitely the wrong word - who am I to tell you what you should be thinking? I should be consulting you! And then you could tell me what I should tell you so you could ask me the right question.) I find the best ideas always come in the middle of a hard, sweaty workout - either a pounding, cough-inducing, bad-on-my-knees-and-back run; an invigorating, heart-pumping, interval-filled bike ride or a stretching-filled, mentally challenging, wet-dizzy-mess of a hot yoga class. Not sure why, but my mind goes to weird, creative, bizarre places when my body is being worked. I start the run, the ride, the yoga and the breathing kicks in and then bing, bang, boom - idea, idea, idea! They just come to me like cute little bunny rabbits come to me in my dreams. I am running in a field highlighted by dandelions, laughing joyfully and bouncing off the ground almost as if gravity applied less to me then others, and just when it seems that I couldn't be any happier, dozens of the cutest, most adorable little bunny rabbits appear out of nowhere and I toss them in the air, hug them and roll around on the ground with them full of love, accidentally crushing a few of them (which comes back to haunt me later in the dream). I know I should try to stay present with my thoughts when I exercise - focus on breathing, think of my goals, push myself harder and harder, but these ideas attack me and I willingly give into their sensuality, their aroma, their gentle, yet firm touch which is almost saying "you, young man (they are so kind), come with us now. That was not meant to sound like a choice. Drop what you are doing and come with us now!" So I go - who am I to say "no" to these ideas? When the exercise is over, the first thing I do after showering is get dressed. It just makes sense in this day and age. After that I take out my phone or run to the computer and I quickly get all of the new gems down never quite remembering all of them. Some of them are lost forever. And it is for those fallen, dying, unrealized ideas that I proudly and bravely march on (actually that is completely false - I feel nothing for them at all) and continue to write.
And then, at some point, after a small bit of editing, botox and revising, I am done a new piece of writing. The sense of accomplishment is unreal. When I'm done a whole piece of writing, I look dramatically at the screen, press "publish", and push back from the desk with feeling. I jump up, pump my fist, and back away from the computer with arms raised. I almost expect a ticker tape parade or if ticker tape machines are obsolete, I'd settle for simply a tape parade with high quality double-sided tape being my first choice and duct tape being less so. I envision myself finishing a race; panting, keeled over, face flushed and suffering from both cramps and dehydration. I look around the empty room wishing I either had someone to high-five or that it is more socially acceptable to hug yourself. I settle on either high-fiving the wall (big mistake!) or hugging the wall (super-embarrassing to be caught in the act of if anyone enters the room, even the cat. I did ask for a store mannequin for my birthday, but did I get what I asked for?!?!? Nope - everyone thought I was joking! It's me, people!). And by the way, finishing a new piece of writing is not anything like giving birth, so I'm not even going to explore this analogy (wow - I'm shocked!) and I'm ignoring the urge to go into a huge gestation tangent as it is too early in the morning for that, I just ate and I'll need to spend more time researching in the field first.
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