Category Archives: Writing

Life Happened…

I wrote this in December of 2015, right after I finished my Associate of Arts degree, and never published it. I’m not sure why. I mean..life happens. I guess that’s why.

 

Life happened.

I have been told that it has a tendency to do that.

But, while I put most of my life on hold to work toward finishing my A.A. degree, life continued as if I didn’t matter.

Can you fathom? Seems a bit unfair, doesn’t it?

In the last 6 months, while I set aside my creative writing and some of the flash challenges I normally partook… partaked.. partooken? Ehh, whatever… I took part in (yeah, that works), pushed aside my gaming addiction for homework, and forsook (I got that one right… I think) my personal relationships to attend class, 6 months passed by. I know, I said 6 months at the beginning of the sentence and it seems redundant, but my point is that 6 months just zipped on by and I wasn’t a part of a lot of it.

Quite frankly, that kind of irritates me.

And now, at the end of those 6 months, I have my Associates of Arts degree (emphasis on English, of course) and I am on winter break before I dive back into school to start working on my Bachelor’s degree. But there is this void in my life. I got so use to the business of school, the constant deadlines, the homework and papers that needed to be done, the readings that need to be.. um, read, and the always present looming threat of failing a class, that now, in the calm and afterglow of it all, I can’t seem to relax.

The best way to describe it would be like running off a… you know what.. better yet, let me just show you what it feels like…

Yeah, that’s about right.

My life has been on hold while streaking forward at an incredibly increasing pace. Sounds a bit impossible, but because of my schooling schedule, I have placed a lot of what I would normally be doing on the side.

My Xbox cries to me some nights, begging me to play a game. My DVR is starting to threaten me with erasing some of the shows that I have let sit idle and unwatched for too long. Hulu is even chiming in with some of the shows that I loved to watch starting to disappear from the cue (because apparently, you have to keep up with the current episodes or miss out… ).

On top of that, anything even remotely writing oriented has been relegated to the simmer spot on the back burner.

And now that all my schooling is over (at least for this semester), the walls I have erected to keep all that stuff away have dropped, and everything is clamoring for my attention.

All at once.

A few days ago, while having a conversation with a blogging community friend, her comment to my dilemma made me put my situation into the following thoughts:

It is very akin to being in a bucket and the floodgates open up, you struggle to stop all the water coming in, frantic because the onslaught is overtaking you, putting your hands here and there to stem the flow, feeling the water rising, your heart rate quickening, just trying to find a foothold in order to at least stand a chance.

All the while, because of the panic and the self-inflicted need to accomplish stuff… let me say that again… stuff… you fail to recognize that if you just take a deep breath and go with the flow, most of that stuff will take care of itself.

Life is funny that way.

But the trick is, not to let the inflow of stuff kick off the anxiety of failure. That will just kill you. And I would love to tell you I have learned this trick, but truth be told, I am constantly having to go back and relearn it every few months. I think they call that… life.

 

P.S. (from today in 2018… ) I still have this issue. That’s a hard trick to learn.

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I’m Scared to Death…

I’m scared to death to write. Ok, that might be a bit of an over exaggeration, but the truth of the matter is, sitting down to my computer and putting words on the page has me almost petrified.

I’m not talking about this kind of writing. This is just free flow from my brain, and I really don’t care so much about what hits the page. I’m talking about my stories, my book ideas, those things that haunt me in the middle of the day and taunt me with the voices that tell me:

“You’re not good enough.”

“You really think you can finish a book?”

“Who do you think you are, Stephen King?”

All the voices I grew up with tearing me down from the inside. I know I am not alone in this dilemma, but it feels very lonely when I look through the notes I have spent time on, developing a storyline, putting effort into making characters real, and believing more strongly in that voice from my past that says they will never live than to the characters that yearn to be heard.

I use the atypical excuses… not enough time, too distracted, no inspiration, I’ll do it tomorrow… all just an appeasement to myself that I am using to try and hide from the fact that I actually might write something someone won’t like.

But, really, what if they don’t like what I spent the time and effort into developing?

Does that even matter?

There are so many arguments out there that say “Write to write” or “Write what the audience wants” or “Just write.” Is there a wrong way with all those writes?

Daunting, frustrating, deflating.

Seriously though.

Am I good enough?

No More Excuses…

So, it’s been so long since I’ve written anything here… I’d go check but I’d probably get depressed about not writing even more than I already am.

But, I remember when I set aside the blogging to concentrate on school work. It was a good idea because the amount of work I was doing was a lot. Four classes a semester and two of those (on average) were writing classes and the other two tended to be literature classes.
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However, all that came to an end back in December. Continue reading No More Excuses…

The Ideology of Stupid…

What is it that makes a person say or do stupid things? Better yet, how come there is this need to sensationalize this stupidity by attaching it to social media?

The Problem

I can’t scroll through (insert social media name here) without being inundated with people’s opinions on one topic or another (mostly political these days) and suffer through the plethora of nonsense that was once relegated to private conversations or backdoored drawing rooms*.

I mean, I remember when people would say, “You never talk about politics or religion” when it came to dinner parties and places where you were prone to gather with a large group of individuals.

The Reason

The reason you never did was because everyone has an opinion and everyone’s opinion is probably different than yours. Take any candidate and ask a supporter what they agree with about them, and sure enough, another supporter will pop up and say that’s the thing they don’t like about them, but they love this about them.

So, ultimately, an argument is going to ensue to one degree or another. Now, when you take two people who differ widely, that is going to be a much more heated discussion.

And Multiply

Sadly, when it comes to the interweb** your opinion isn’t just cast to a few individuals. It’s cast to tens or twenties (what? I don’t have a large base, your point?) and those tens or twenties are all of their own opinions and are going to usually share back (with likes, loves, re-twerps, shares… or hates, flames, trolling and indiscriminate loathful rhetoric that would make a stripper blush***).

Now, I’m an advocate for “free press” and the “Don’t Censor Me, Bro” movement, but there is this part of that whole thing that so many people don’t understand. You right to voice your opinion comes at the cost of having people lambast you in return.

The Caveat

The fun part is… if you post a comment in the negative to whatever the stand is, you best be fully aware that people who agree with the original statement that you flamed  are going to rally and strike back.

And Thus

I’m pretty sure this is how gang wars start.

In Conclusion

Do you want to know what’s stupid? People getting upset at other people for having differing opinions. Do you want to know what else is stupid? Telling someone they are wrong for what they believe without actually having any evidence to back it up. Do you want to know what else is stupider****?

Do you want to know what else is stupid? Telling someone they are wrong for what they believe without actually having any evidence to back it up.

Do you want to know what else is stupider****? Thinking that you can convince someone to change their mind by showing them that they are wrong.

Yeah. That last part. That’s really stupid.

So, people of the interweb**, stand up and unite in solidarity against stupidity and recognize that you, yes you, are allowed to have an opinion and you have the right to voice it…

BUT!!!

So does everyone else.

Thank you.

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*I have no idea what those are, it just sounded really cool…she, just accept it.

**yes, I know it’s the internet, but interweb sounds more fun.

***I have no idea what makes a stripper blush, but I assume it would take a lot… but I could be wrong. If so, choose another profession you think that doesn’t blush very much and insert it into that part.

****shh, I know it’s not a word…

Daily Prompt

Humility…

Humility.

Not something I am particularly well acquainted with. Granted, I’m not a very proud (boastful) person either. However, when it comes to my writing skills, I have had occurrence over the last few years to recognize that I am not as horrible as I think that I am. There are times in my writing groups or in my classes where I will read peoples work and my immediate thought or critique is, “Seriously, give up. No, really. I hear accounting is a good career.”

And then I hear my wife’s voice nagging me, “Be nice.”

Now, let me just set one thing straight. Being nice is just not in my character. I’m brash, I’m curt, I’m honest. I’m kind of like the 2×4 that most people need to be hit with (or at least I’ve been told that (ok, I might be a bit proud of that aspect… just a bit)). So, when my wife tells me to be nice, I have to take a deep breath and remember that I am dealing with humans who have feelings… so much ugh.

And then…

Then it happens. That moment when I read Langston Hughes or Robert Frost of Dylan Thomas and I am reminded in a brutal fashion that I am not that great.

Oh, how the mighty do fall.

Where just a few seconds ago I stood high on a pedestal and sneered at the masses of the inadequate and doggerel, I now look up from the crater that has become my bed and I reach up, stretching forth my hand toward the gods of the written word and wonder when… when will be my moment to shine like the stars that they have become, twinkling in the heavens and haunting my thoughts like ghosts from a time I long to bring back.

How I long to walk amongst those stars and hear their stories. How I wish to sit for a while under the tutelage of those men and women who weave the words wistfully and without work.

Just to create something, anything, that will touch another soul the way that they have touched mine.

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p.s. A is for alliteration