Inspiration, please?

Still life from backpack

My last post was July 22nd, in the midst of a month I took off from blogging as I concentrated on other projects.

And whoops, I did not pick the blog back up when August came around. 

A nonessential project buried under the stuff of life, deeper every day.

But I find that I miss it.

My most fluent times come when I am sticking to a Seinfeldian chain, writing every day. And indeed, I've stuck with my daily journaling throughout. Not much of it compelling, but the words were written.

The real question is what do I have to say that people actually want to read?

I welcome suggestions as I try to get myself back on something of a schedule.

A Blip in the Radio Silence

Poetry takes absolutely forever.

I finally passed the halfway point to the minimum (10000) word goal for Camp NaNoWriMo. It's July 22nd.

The good news is, I surpassed my personal 620 lines of poetry goal days ago.

98% of my writing is very very rough draft. Dreck.

At the same time, about half of it is personal, dealing with things I'm still processing. So I'm spending the time quietly, not publishing.

But here's a piece that's exceedingly meta, because that's what happens when you take on NaNo.

Heelsticks.
Drawing drops of blood
from the heel of a
shrieking newborn.
Writing a poem
feels like that.
Except when the muse of loquacious imagery
points the fire hose of words,
blasting straight at your face
in your mind
out your pen
please don't run out of ink!
The muse gives no guarantee
of quality or satisfaction-
often you wake hungover,
faced with pages upon pages
of utter crap.
Still better than the empty page,
the taunting blinking cursor.

Post #500!

I started this blog in August 2013. 

It went slowly at first, as I only posted when I felt like I really had something to say.

And then in late February 2014 I decided that I just needed to start saying. Every day. Sometimes it would be critically important and other times it would be just a bit above "I had a piece of toast."

For the most part I *have* posted every day. (Ok, I skipped two days last week. I was writing a sermon and preparing for a full day of LGBTQ weddings. Something had to give. And then I posted the sermon, so I think that gives me a bit of forgiveness, as it clocks in at a length about ten times my average post.)

I apologize for the toast posts. I offer you this rose as a small token of my appreciation for your gracious patience.

Camp NaNoWriMo 2015!

Every November I take part in National Novel Writing Month, writing a truly horrendous first draft of a novel.

The same group also sponsors a "Camp" writing month in July, a little less structured but another chance to set a goal and hopefully achieve it. I haven't done the July challenge for a few years, but with my partner taking it on, well... why not?

So my goal is to write twenty lines of poetry each day in the month of July. I do not yet consider myself a poet, though I can throw down some haiku...

Maybe some of it will be non-heinous enough to share it.
(Probably not.)

If you'd like to join the fun, check out http://campnanowrimo.org/ .

That Nauseating Time

Where every word you write
           every reading you choose
           every element you've placed

Seems horribly wrong 
                          and        absolutely
 none            of            it                           is 
         coming 
                         together.

Thankfully
           sermons don't need to be 'ready' 
           until Sunday.

You just hope that they come before


                                                    they're 

                                                                           overdue.

Drafts

Once in a while I have thoughts for a blog post and I start writing, only to realize that it is not ready. Perhaps it's an idea I'm still processing, intellectually or emotionally. Sometimes the post is bigger than I can tackle in the time (or laptop charge) I have available that day.

So I click the Save button and start something new, figuring that I will get back to the draft sooner or later. Or not, if the topic proves ephemeral. The good news is, draft blog entries, even if they accumulate, are tiny digital files--they take up very little space. 

As opposed to the piles of various projects partitioned out on my dining room table, forcing me to review papers on the floor when I run out of space up top. The work of possibility is rarely tidy.

Less Successful Deadline Excuses

1. Golden Girls was on, and I hadn't hear that Sicily story before. 
2. I wasn't feeling it.
3. The colored pencils needed sorting.
4. Chocolate chip pancakes do not make themselves.* 
5. My kids were using my computer.
6. I lost one of my idea socks.
7. Mercury is in retrograde.
8. It's not ready--I haven't thought of ten excuses yet.

*This one might work if there were leftover pancakes to offer as appeasement.

Accountability Measures

Today was deadline day at work. Newsletter and e-blast and reports. I struggled to get it all done, but I managed. 

And now I am home and there's a blog entry to put up? Honestly, I would rather find a movie to watch. 

I am going to be responsible and get the blog done and put myself to bed at a sensible time. More work to be done in the morning...

So a quart of ice cream is sitting out on the counter. I get a scoop of it as soon as I click publish.

Apologies for a short post, but I wouldn't want the ice cream to get too melty.

Variations On A Theme

Yes, we all have a tendency to say the same thing over and over again.

But I just drafted a full blog entry, then realized that I already posted the message a couple of months ago.

It was nothing especially prophetic, so no need to go over the same ground again.

Meanwhile, I've got three draft posts moldering in a purgatory of edits.

Eh, it's time for brownie in a mug.

In the "Ideas I Wish I'd Had" Category

A friend pointed to this Twitter account.
With algorithms subtle and discrete / I seek iambic writings to retweet.

Yep. Really. Mining other people's tweets for the right syllables. Nearly fifty-four thousand retweets.

And some of them get reassembled into poetry/stories like this fine example.

Hilariously geeky.

Writing in the Digital Age

Remember handwritten assignments? Multi-page papers that had to be done longhand. If you made a mistake, there would be a scratch-out, or White-out or maybe even "erasable ink".

My family got our first computer when I was in the second grade. It was for video games and basic programing, so my first typed pieces were on a green travel typewriter. 

By the time I was in middle school we had a computer with a printer and word processing programs to type up papers. But research and rough drafts, worked on in class, were handwritten, usually with highly specific methods (note cards, graphic organizers, 'double spaced' rough drafts) according to the individual teacher. 

I was in high school before I truly started from a blank computer screen, coming up with the words as I went, then editing on screen. 

It's a different sort of process. For one thing, there's no real need to start with a first line and go in a particular order. It's easy enough to start in the middle and rearrange as needed. No pressure to spend hours getting your first line perfect before going on to the next three hundred.

Not everything is perfect. There's that whole distraction of the internet, or even if you turn that off, the choice of fonts and a hundred other formatting decisions.

Whenever I cannot think about what to write next, I hit the enter key. I won't realize sometimes just how many times I have hit it, until a fifty-word post takes up a full screen.  Sometimes I remember to go back and edit. Other times I do not.

(I still proofread from a printed copy. And yes, my default is two spaces after a period. I'm working on it.)

First Scrawl, pen ripping paper

Tonight I am raw garlic.
There is nothing mellow about me.
I am sharp and sulfurous and overwhelming.

I get to call my own truths.
I've no patience for your platitudes-
"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" is a lie.

The Energy of Avoidance

How much energy do I exert each day avoiding things I don't feel like doing?

If I could harness that energy, this laptop would not be running out of charge.

If I hadn't spent the last two hours in other windows on said laptop, it would not need that charge.

And yet--often those side pursuits have value, too. Reading something that leads to new understandings. Deepening relationships with colleagues and acquaintances. Contemplating a big challenge and figuring out a new way through.

In all its inefficiency, it works.
Eventually.

Not Ready To Change

Look! Look! It's a new computer!

I've had my sweet little netbook for most of five years now and it's showing its age--slow, the down arrow doesn't work, and I've bought enough batteries for it.

So spouse told me I was getting a new machine for Christmas. As soon as I figured out what I wanted.

Decisions are hard, y'all.

I finally got this sweet new thing on Thursday.

I've yet to figure out all the bells and whistles, to navigate between touchscreen and touchpad, or the downloading of critical software beyond a few goofy entertainment apps. 

The poor thing is neglected* while I continue to pound out my important works (OK, mostly Facebook updates) on the old comfortable system. 

How often do we stick with the comfortable rather than switching to the new? How much pain is required to push us to change?


*And yes, I have a personification habit.

Do As I Say, Not As I Do

Avoid distractions when writing.

You know, like football games, family, and the South Park movie.

When The Words Don't Come

I write a lot. Daily journaling, these small blog posts, and rather a lot of material for work. I like to think that my fluency is good and that I keep the words flowing.  Right up until the moment when nothing is coming to mind, when every word seems trite and every sentence belabored.

This past week I had four publication deadlines for work, a couple of reports, some careful messages to draft, and a reflection piece for a worship service. Not a stellar time for the muse to take a three-hour cruise to a deserted island.

It was a week of "Make it Work", suffering through the dis-ease, complicated by tech problems in the office- a dead printer/copier, and Sunday, a power outage knocking out my monitor.

And still hating most every word I wrote. Hours of thinking on the words, sitting down to write, typing out my babbles, then deleting at least two-thirds of it. I broke down and DID DISHES, hoping the different muscle movements might trigger my fingers into finding the right words.

Anywhere I could get someone else's input, I did so--admitting that things weren't going smoothly on my end. Thankfully, I work with some eloquent folks.

In the end, I hit all the deadlines. The reflection piece was half taken from something I typed up at 6:30 AM, and half from notes scrawled on a big sticky note between 10 and 11:30. It was not the most concise or the most enriching thing I have ever written or said, but neither was it cringe-inducing.

I'm looking forward to a few days of spreadsheets and filing and reading. Not especially glamorous, but an easier part of the brain.

Bright Lights, Big Internet

I have been procrastinating mightily all evening.

No writing, no reading, no progress on jobs around the house.

But I have researched at least a dozen random things on the Google.
And played sudoku.
And commented on rather a lot of Facebook posts.

I fear I might never "grow up"...

Done!

I submitted my 2014 National Novel Writing Month project this evening, so woot, that's done. 

Most years I have an elaborate strategy of front-loading the month so I have plenty of cushion for those days when life happens and words are the last of my possibilities.

This year I determined to just stick to the minimal 1667 words per day, every day.

And it worked for about five days. Then, you know, life.

The good news is, it's quite possible to do ginormous catching up at the end of the month, especially once the Thanksgiving meal is cooked and there are leftovers available. I recommend a token economy of a small piece of pie for every two thousand words.

Now I can get back to blog posts of more than twenty words, more than five minutes.

Why I Take Pictures

I keep my camera and my camera phone nearby most of the time. 

Not because I am an award-winning photographer.

Not because I am much for selfies.

But because I want to remember the sweet crazy wonderful chaotic bits of the universe. 

This picture here? A whimsical table at Sam's Burgers, Fries, and Pies, where we had lunch with the extended family today.

I also took a picture of a giant truck carrying propane canisters. And of my son sleeping with his feet against my shoulder. And of weird things I found at various markets around time.

Our lives are so much richer and wider than any set of headlines flashing across a screen. 

And when we're lucky, there's pie.

You know it's the second week of NaNoWriMo*

when you find yourself considering the homicidal proclivities of Sesame Street characters..


*National Novel Writing Month