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Friday, April 25, 2014

So it's one more round for experience



The change of seasons has me all stirred up. I'm the alarm that won't stop going off. The lighter that won't catch and burn. That ache in your shoulder that's not quite enough to send you running for the pills, but enough to make you moan "fuck" when you move a certain way.

My old therapy aka writing eludes me. Hateful muse.

I miss writing but can't latch on to a thought long enough or securely enough to mine it for anything meaningful or even funny.  Dig deeper?  Bite me. If I don't will most of my thoughts to glance off me like baby taps, I'd morph into a glowing ball of fury.

And as fun as that sounds to the casual observer?  No.

My new nickname is already The Door Slammer.

Even so, I'm going to show up here and get my chops back. I cannot keep not writing and expect anything to change, right? Come on. Convince me. Or don't bother because I am pretty hard headed.  In my hands, stubborn becomes a whole new weapon.

XO


22 comments:

  1. Muscles atrophy when they're not used. So do writing skills. The words don't have to be deep or meaningful or funny but they do need to make it on to paper (or its electronic equivalent). Set a goal: X number of words every day. They might be gold. They might be crap. But the more you write, the more natural it will feel.

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    1. Thank you, Nan. You're right. The muscle has atrophied. Time to exercise it and those damn demons who fuel me.

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  2. With you, sister. Both in the fury and the trying again.

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    1. It does not make me happy that you're with me on the fury. What a draining emotion. xo

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  3. Writing is saving me right now. Along with the pharmacology, a supportive family, and the prospects of counseling beginning next week, returning to writing is keeping me alive. I cannot recommend writing enough. And, I'll be honest - I'm selfish enough to miss your writing. Somehow, over the past couple years, our muses went on a coffee break, and we weren't around when they got back. I've latched on to mine as a lifeline. You might be surprised what you discover hidden inside once the fingers start their dance over the keyboard. Love you, I've missed you, and keep trying.

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    1. I'm so glad that writing is helping you, Geoffrey. As cliched as it sounds, hang in there.

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  4. Well, I'm excavating my ironing board (seriously; one of the items removed was from 2012) and having a go at 2048 while brushing up on the latest kerfuffle (mostly scraping it off my shoe), but I'm not really writing, and the more I noodzhe myself, the less I scribble. Obviously, what you have is contagious. ;)

    Those are beautiful trees in the picture. Are they local? Do they emit fragrance? Do you wanna dance? Anything need throwing out?

    I have amethysts, and they are saying "Necklace" in squeaky voices.

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    1. D, you crack me up. Those trees are redbuds. They're all over the midwest and into the south, places like Tennessee. I don't think they have a scent, but how silly of me to not know.

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  5. What helps me most is setting a goal and making it public with my readers. Usually I'll commit to writing a post a day for a month. And for that month, I'm really good. Not always inspired. Not always as funny as I'd like to be. But my readers love it. Otherwise, it's too easy to see what's on Netflix or go out with friends or get 8 hours of sleep. I hope you find your way back. I enjoy your writing.

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    1. Thank you, Reticula. I definitely need the goal and the accountability. The fact that you all are here and reading amazes me. You're right about the distractions. They are legion. Dang it.

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  6. I've missed your writing, Lisa. You're really, really good. But I do understand what you're going through. I go through periods all the time when I'm sure I'll never have another idea to write about again. All. The. Time. I think Nan has the right idea. Author Kathy Fish said that what works for her is to quickly wright out 50 sentences longhand. Doesn't matter what the content is. Not to think too much about them. And when you're done look through and see which ones resonate and beg for more exploration. It's about time for me to do this again. Give it a try.

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    1. I will, Jayne. Thank you. It's been so long since I wrote longhand of any length. Talk about building up muscles!

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  7. Alack what poverty my muse brings forth,
    That having such a scope to show her pride,
    The argument all bare is of more worth
    Than when it hath my added praise beside.
    O blame me not if I no more can write!
    Look in your glass and there appears a face,
    That over-goes my blunt invention quite,
    Dulling my lines, and doing me disgrace.
    Were it not sinful then striving to mend,
    To mar the subject that before was well?
    For to no other my verses tend,
    Than of your graces and your gifts to tell.
    And more, much more than in my verse can sit,
    Your own glass shows you, when you look in it.

    Yesterday was Shakespeare's 450th birthday.

    :)

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  8. I have felt that way, in fact I was completely discouraged earlier this year and ready to quit. I started using blog prompts and posting something every day and it's really helped. Even though the prompts are kind of silly, it just helps to have a question asked and a reason to answer. Might be something to experiment with and see if it gets you anywhere.

    XO

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    1. Prompts seem to be working well for you, Averil. I'll give that some serious consideration. xo

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  9. say, you gonna finish all those french fries? or can I have some?

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    1. As I am giving up carbs (and bitching my way through withdrawals), you would be doing me a huge favor, Jimm.

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    2. Lisa...I have given up so many things, I not only have to take off my shoes to count 'em all up...I have to ask my friends to take off theirs to get a correct tally. but, anyways, weighed myself the other day and I am exactly back to what I weighed when I played HS football....course, the weight is all 'rearranged' hehehe....b good

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  10. I've a simple solution when writer's block happens (infrequently) ... and that's to ... not write. Yes, no words at all, don't force it, go do something else ... tend bar, ride a bus endlessly around the town, drink and make a fool of yourself, go to confession and argue with the priest. And, whatever else you do - do one more thing - don't talk about having writer's a wedges.

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And then you say....

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