Keep Paddling

Well, I’m up the creek. No, it’s not a creek, but a river as wide and powerful as the Amazon or Mississippi Rivers.

It’s all about writing, of course. I’ve used many metaphors to explore and explain my writing ventures, progress, and process. All of them, despite being disparate, are correct and accurate. My writing processes changes as I go through different phases of conception, imagining, creating, writing, editing, and introspection.

Paddling on a broad river seems the correct metaphor, simile, or analogy for now. I have a firm idea of where I’m going, yet currents attempt to pull me into different directions. Swirling eddies trap me with bursts of vacillation about which way to paddle. Right now, the river of words and ideas are bright and shiny. Sometimes, though, the sun goes down. Moonlight and starlight might help then, but sometimes, I’m alone out there, lost in darkness, on the river alone.

Muses often help me out, throwing lines, shouting directions and encouragement. So does the habit I have now of reading interviews with published authors in my quest for a quote. Many of those writers have tales of being out to sea, up in the air, trudging through a hot, dusty desert, or locked in solitary confinement. They write about writing for themselves for years, sometimes being published but with little to speak of in the ways of sales or recognition. They continued writing because they’d discovered the joy of writing for themselves.

Then, suddenly, bang, an agent signs them. A publisher publishers one of their novels. A rave review punches through the public’s consciousness. An actor, director, producer, studio head, whatever, reads their novel, buys the rights and makes it into a movie. Overnight, they’re a sensation after years of writing for themselves.

The joy of writing for myself can’t be overstated. I’m on a river now because while there’s sounds and sensations, I’m mostly in solitude, communicating with my muses about where I’m at, what I don’t like, and what I do enjoy. I’m going with a flow. Although it might not seem like it from everything else written above, it feels like a process flowing with quiet confidence and satisfaction.

Your results and processes are probably different, of course. Or perhaps they’re the same, or you see some nugget of yourself in the now of your existence, doing similar to what I’m doing. No matter how your process works or changes, I wish you well on it.

The coffee is gone. Time to pack up and head out for a sweaty walk in the hot sunshine. It’s been an excellent day of writing like crazy.



Flooftella (floofinition) 1. Nutella with animal fur in it. 2. Television shows about animals. 3. Turning on a television or streaming a video or program to entertain pets.

In use: “Every morning before leaving, a flooftella was set up so the cats would have hours of watching birds and squirrels, an offering he made to them because there was little to watch outside of the highrise building.”

Tuesday’s Theme Music

Two women walked by me in the other direction. As I passed them, they slowed, and one said, “Sometimes, you need to be cruel to be kind.”

No! As soon as I heard it, I tried blocking my musical stream. But the buttons had been pushed, and the Nick Lowe song, “Cruel to be Kind” (1979) popped into my head.

I knew exactly who sang this song. When the catchy tune first came out, I had no idea who sang it. As it continually got stuck in my head, I looked the artist up. It’s not a bad song or anything, not bad for streaming in my head as I walk. I don’t know why my stream has such an affinity for it. The song seems to have that word rhythm that sucks me in.

Hope it’ll suck you in, too. Bwahahahaha.

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