Category: Thinking, thinking

Cold Coffee, Hot Writing

It was an exhausting, satisfying, and intense writing session today. All those muses who reside in the apartments of my being were silenced, except one. They knew exactly what I was to write, and one was the designated director.

Barely able to keep up, I hit that flow. The story’s complexities and this path that I’m following demanded that I first edit the two chapters I’d finished yesterday. Then, the muse dictated, start this chapter, and then another, and so on, until five chapters were being written in parallel. Had to be, because of the nature of the unfolding events. I typed, editing and revising, jumping between pages, paragraphs, characters, and chapters as ordered and needed, trying hard to keep up.

Finally stopping, I look up and engage in the coming-out period. Looking out the window, a line from “Uncle Salty” by Aerosmith comes to me: “Ooo, it’s a sunny day outside my window.”

Coming out after writing is always odd. These are the long seconds endured after intense writing when I re-enter life, my existence, reality, whatever you want to call it. I hear music and see other people. An air-conditioner’s chilly breeze teases my bare legs and neck. I feel detached from being there. What feels most real is that my butt cheeks feel sore and numb, and muscle strain stretches across my shoulders.

Still, I feel detached. I continue thinking about what’s been written, and what’s meant to be written yet, and how much work remains. Once the beta version of all four novels in this series are completed, I then need to edit and revise them until I have a first draft of all, something that I feel complete enough to regard as books. That will be a huge chunk of work. I think I’m looking at the rest of the year and beyond.

With those thoughts still strong, I drink my coffee, cold as an iceberg. Three-fourths of that cup remains. It’s time to stop writing like crazy; I can feel that, like the muse has said, “Okay, that’s enough for today. We’ll pick up here tomorrow.”

Still, I feel detached. My fictional world was so much sharper. I was engaged so much more deeply. It took a lot of energy to go that deeply into the flow, I realize. I’ve noticed this before without comprehending it. Going into the flow takes strength, energy, and commitment to induce myself to release enough to accept it.

I’m hungry, too, and realize that I’ve been hungry for a while, and I need to hit the restroom. Yes, time to stop writing like crazy today.

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Back in the Writing Groove

Ah, sweet comfort. I’m back in the writing groove again.

Thinking about it as I made coffee this morning, I recognized how fiction writing every day helps me be more mindful. To understand characters’ motivation and behavior, I look to myself and other people that I know. I think about what I’ve done and what drives me, along with my inherent contradictions, and search for understanding of what I do, and why. And I do the same with other people, and the characters that I encounter in novels, short stories, movies, and television shows. All that is so that I can create richer characters and tell better stories.

Going through that thinking exercise as the darkness swept through me this week, I saw how my daily writing provides me structure and goals. Those structures and goals give my life meaning. So when I flail through the darkness and don’t want to write, my structure comes apart.

It isn’t just about feeding and satisfying the muses, telling stories, or pursuing goals of writing novels and becoming published. My writing is a tangible part of who I am. When I can’t write, I feel incomplete and adrift. I feel like I’m not me.

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

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An Opposite Day

I’m right-handed. I’ve established a routine of doing physical activities with the opposite hand.  I was initially just checking it out to see how well I could do things with my left hand.

I started with the usual stuff of signing my name, throwing and catching a ball, and eating. Then it became a challenge in motor dexterity and balance. As I’ve aged, I’m staggered to see how my habits and routines had trained and limited my body and its movement. Because of that, I expanded my opposite routines to shaving, dressing, and brushing my teeth. It surprised me how hard it was to dress doing things as though I’m left-handed. Putting on my boxer shorts was especially challenge.

Today I added one that I’ve never done before: I reversed how I wear my belt. Let me tell you, thinking through how to put the belt through the loops was funny as hell because it wasn’t easy.

What about you? Do you ever practice doing things with the opposite hand?

5

Taken for Granted

As I showered today, enjoying fresh hot water, I thought about all the moments leading to that one. I looked back toward Ashland becoming a town and the settlers coming together with a decision to establish a water system. They created dams and cisterns, and channeled water to pipes for homes to tap off them.

Imagine all of that, the thinking and conversations that were held about the idea, and the decisions that had to be made. Someone paid for it, someone oversaw the work, and others did the work.

Then expand, look at our modern areas with their drainage, sewage, and water supplies. The trails, paths, sidewalks, streets, and roads that were built, expanding into higheways, and then augmented with interstate expressways. Look at the driveways, parking spots, parking garages, and gas stations. Look at the new charging stations for electric cars. Look beyond to the communication lines, from telegraphs and telephones to antennas, and cable television and Internet connections to satellite feeds and cell towers.

It is amazing stuff that I take for granted, this infrastructure that I use with little thought, and it’s such a small, small fragment of the entire development that we call civilization. Shame that we have the potential to destroy all of this thought and work by careless thought and activity.

Especially when you consider the more amazing planet upon which all of this is built.

4

Spider Update

We thought a black widow spider had started homesteading (websteading?) in the master bath. We go through these drills a few times per year. Per the household spider policy, I tried capturing it without clearly seeing it. The spider successfully retreated.

I haven’t seen it since that day. My guess is that it saw me naked and departed for somewhere else. After all, they’re more afraid of us than we are of them.

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Skipping Stone

Did you see it?

Did you see that stone skipping over the waves,

defying gravity as if it was nothing,

touching the water and flashing off like a blade of sunshine

never stopping?

Yes, that was me.

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Conversing

You ever feel like you’re talking to someone who is having half of the conversation in their head, not saying the words but believing they had?

It can be confusing and exhausting.

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Saturday’s Theme Music

I stumbled across an article about the rise of arena rock. The article mentioned that Cream, on its farewell tour, headlined the first rock concert at Madison Square Gardens. That’s all it took for me to start streaming some Cream. As a big Cream fan, I enjoy a number of Cream songs. I started with “Strange Brew”, shifted to “Brave Ulysses”, followed with “Sunshine of your Love”, but then went to an old blues standby, “Crossroads”.

There I stayed, caught on the rock rhythm, but thinking about the lyrics, fixated on the final line. “And I’m standing at the crossroads, believe I’m sinking down.”

Every day brings a crossroads. You make choices. Some blindly follow the same road, and some willfully follow that road. Both refuse to consider the crossroads that they’ve reached, pressing on.

As writers, we’re often at crossroads about what a character will say or do, and how the story will change to advance the plot. Every day brings the opportunity to feel like you’re sinking down, or the belief that’s what’s happening. It’s easy to get caught there, especially when you thought you’d be making more progress, or that things would become easier. Each novel and chapter, though — each crossroad — is unique. You can learn some hints about how to navigate these places, but they often require a fresh approach.

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