Month: April 2018

One Of Those Nights

It was one of those nights. My muse didn’t recognize my need for sleep and refused to issue permission to shut down my brain and close my eyes.

Such times are productive, even though I feel like shit in the morning. I’m exaggerating for effect, of course; I really don’t know how shit feels. I feel guilty, implying that shit feels terrible. For all I know, shit feels great.

Sorry for the shitty detour. I know, terrible humor. Hey, I just confided that I had a rough night. Grant me some latitude.

Back to the muses’ nocturnal gallop through my mind. I’d just been complimenting my muse (or muses – I think there’s a congress of muses within me) about the pleasant week of systematic writing established and reflecting on the progress made. When last I left off writing yesterday, I had a damn good idea of where I was next going.

I’m still going there, but the dark silence of night brought out the muses like they were in heat. Instead of allowing me to sleep, wake up today, and go walk and write to work out details, the muses began shotgunning details into me. The people look like these. These are their names. They’re all women, and —

It’s not polite to ignore your muse, and it’s rude to tell them to shut up. I obliged them by listening. When I thought they’d finished, I attempted to use one of my honored processes to engage sleep. I thought it worked, too, but then, the muses thundered out anew.

When sleep and I finally met, quicksilver dreams rushed in, flashing kaleidoscopes of scenes and words. Awakening, I had a lot to think about between dreams and night writing, and a desire for about four more hours of sleep.

Got a big ol’ cup of dark, unadulterated caffeine loaded coffee steaming in a mug to my right. Time to write like crazy and get all this stuff down, at least one more time.

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Olifloofchy

Olifloofchy (catfinition) – a clowder in which a small group of felines exercise control for selfish reasons.

In use: “The clowder wanted to play but the olifloofchy gave warning looks, and all the cats remained still, waiting for the next event.”

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Monday’s Theme Music

When I heard “Share the Land” by the Guess Who, I knew that wasn’t Randy Bachman on the guitar. The style sounded different. Nothing against Bachman, who did some excellent playing with the Guess Who (like “American Woman”) and with BTO, but I really liked the guitar’s fast, fluid movements and high notes on “Share the Land.”

Because of that one song, I became a Kurt Winter fan. He died of kidney disease when he was fifty-one, but he left some wonderful performances to remember him. I like how Burton Cumming’s honky-tonk style piano in this song underscores Winter’s guitar work.

 

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Parked

Don’t you love it when you’ve parallel parked and the cars in front and behind you have each left your car two inches to maneuver? Saw a man assessing that as he arrived at his car today, and felt his frustration.

4

Writing Time, Again

Chug, chug. My muse is a dependable locomotive engine this week. I sit down, and the words and scenes chug out. It’s not wholly effortless. I hit some grades that slow the pace but the muse keeps chugging, and I keep going. Writing-like-crazy bursts are followed by introspective editing and revising to get to the point where scenes and chapters are completed, and then I go on to the next one.

Once upon a time, I would have thought, hey, it’s written, revised, edited, and finished. Submit and publish, thank you. Now I’ve learned, naw, that writing, editing, refining, and polishing is part of my writing process to achieve completing a first draft. When the draft is done, the work of editing, revising, and re-writing begins. I usually find kinks caused by story or character inconsistencies, flimsy story-telling, or awkward phrasing that requires thought and deeper processing. Sometimes I find a bridge missing that I’ve marked to write later.

But I’ve learned from editing and revising in the past, and I’m more mindful of my process. I can think through the process, story, and words on the fly more than I used to be able to do, a result that comes from application, application, application, via writing every day. It’s all part of a immersive, relaxing process. Writing is my therapy and sanctuary.

Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

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Sunday’s Theme Music

This song, “Ramblin’ Man”, was recorded a year after Duane Allman died. I was a big Allman Brothers Band fan when he died after a massive motorcycle accident. “Live at the Fillmore East,” released on July of 1971, was one of my recurring go-to albums. A month after “Ramblin’ Man” was recorded, Berry Oakley, Duane’s friend and the group’s bassist, died in a motorcycle accident a few blocks from where Duane had his accident.

Dicky Betts sang “Ramblin’ Man,” which explained a lot for me. When I first heard it, I thought, boy, Gregg’s vocals sound a lot different on this. That song, though, captured the uplifting, rambunctious, rambling spirit I often felt while I was traveling. The pace feels faster with the song’s guitar solos, and the notes make me feel like I’m soaring on a wind.

It’s a memorable song, and has been used in many movies and venues. Here they are, the Allman Brothers Band with “Ramblin’ Man” from 1973, my junior year in high school.

 

 

 

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Floofwind

Floofwind (catfinition) – a powerful, localized wind caused when one or more cats and kittens gallop, scamper, dash, sprint, and race around.

In use: “The kittens took off, energizing the elders, and a floofwind quickly engulfed the living room, sending things flying off tables and into the air.”

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