Actually, I have noticed that writing a blog on Monday’s has become harder and harder for me over the past 6 months. For two years, I was solid about getting a blog post done five days a week. Quality may have been one thing, but as for quantity, I was as constant as the North Star. Yet something happened, where now completely a blog on Monday by 11am is a near impossibility.
Our family routine hasn’t changed in any major way, and I have not taken on any new responsibilities as stay at home dad. Still, I have lost the gap of time I used to have in the morning. I know the fault is with me, so I must conclude that I am drawing out my tasks and not making the time anymore.
I am writing something today so it’s not like I have wasted my time.
Still, I feel myself becoming a little less focused.
I was planning on doing a Jami Attenburg “1,000 Words of Summer” type of project for myself in July. (It’s where you write 1000 words a day for 30 days. There is more to it than that, but that’s the gist.) my original intention was to see what 31,000 words on the same subject would look like, and to “complete” a large project. But now I’m thinking that I need to reaffirm some positive writing habits, and get back to working.
I won’t lie and say that I had a great or a bunch of great ideas that I wanted to write about today. I was actually drawing a blank as I looked at my computer screen. Nothing was coming to me. I read the news, listened to music, tried all of my old tricks – I couldn’t get an idea to stick and come to life.
The only option I had to get some creative inspiration flowing was to take a nap. Not a several hour nap, just a quick and to the point 15 minute power-nap! I set a timer, laid down on the couch, closed my eyes and let it happen.
There really isn’t a story here other than I like taking naps, and I took one. This isn’t one of my best blogs, which I can admit, but I needed to write today and I’m doing it.
And thus the 2022/23 Tottenham Hotspur season comes to a close. Sadly, just as I thought, Spurs lost their last home match to a clearly on the rise Brentford. Though Harry Kane had one of the most amazing goals I had seen in a very long time, it was all for not… This Sunday the Premiere League comes to an end, which has Tottenham playing an away match against Leeds. Though Leeds is sitting at second to last on the table, they do have something to play for. If they get a win with a Leicester loss or tie, and Everton loss, then Leeds will avoid relegation. So, as per normal for this season, Tottenham will lose this match. Which is an awful thing to say, but on paper, Spurs should win this one, no question. But they seem to give away all the easy matches. Then the real humiliation would be Brentford beating Man City (And Man City won the League, so they have nothing to play for) thus causing Tottenham to fall to 9th. Oof! What a season. I guess I’ll wait and see what this Summer brings, with a new manager and players, and also, let’s see who sticks around. In the meantime, I got European qualifying, MLS, and the Women’s World Cup.
I do have two small goals for today. I want to finish up two flash pieces that I have been working on. AND, I want to submit to a couple of more online journals. I’ve been trying to do this all week, and today is the day.
Memorial Day Weekend snuck up on me. Actually, all holidays this year have snuck up on me. I feel like I am running behind on all of this stuff. But being as it is Friday morning, we won’t be leaving the City. Also, it’s Taylor Swift Weekend at the Meadowlands, so stay the hell away from the George Washington Bridge and Northern New Jersey. One day, I just might get my life organized enough to plan a getaway for the family, and make a four-day weekend out of it. Until that, I just might be drinking a beer on the roof of my building.
I also think the words, house husband should be spelled “house-husband,” but autocorrect disagrees with me. English is a strange language which never stops evolving.
And when I say that I will be house husbanding “it” what that really means is I have a bunch of errands to run around the city for the family. Every now and then, a day like is emerges and I have to put a bunch of other things that I would like to do on the back burner. Life is about trade-offs, and today, I will be living the trade-off.
But, one thing that I won’t let myself skip out on is putting down at least 250 words daily. I have been a little lax on the blog since the start of the year. I would post Monday through Friday, with occasional holiday breaks. But since the start of the year, it has been closer to four post a week. I still journal every day, which is how I normally hit my 250-word quota. A good day is 1,000 words, and bad day is 250.
You know, I started all of this back in 2019. I’m four years into this plan. Outside of my marriage, this is the longest commitment I have ever maintained. I started to think the other day that I should be closing in on my Gladwell 10,000 hours. Now if I do some simple math, like saying that I write about 3 hours a day, on average for 21 days a month, for four years now which means…
I’ve put in 3,024 hours…
So… I guess I’m still in my beginner phase.
You know, Gladwell said that the 10,000 hours was just a guideline, not a hard rule.
(The short story “Long Island” by Nicole Krauss appeared in the May 22nd, 2023 issue of The New Yorker.)
(I’m gun’na try not to, but beware of SPOILERS!)
Illustration by Javi Aznarez
There are no rules to writing. None. Whoever told you that you had write something in a certain way was lying to you. You can write whatever you want, about anything you want… provided you are good at it.
Such as, you can’t start a story with a huge run-on sentence, and then spend the next couple of paragraphs just describing things with no narrative direction.
Sure you can. Nicole Krauss did it in her story “Long Island.”
Maybe it was supposed to be a “memory” story, because it’s not like this was stream of consciousness, but the story had the feeling of a memoir, what life was like out on Long Island in the late 70’s. This is a story of memory, experience, and all stirred up with a healthy bit of reflection and comparison.
I enjoyed this piece of fictional nostalgia; of a time and a place that will not exist anymore. An upper middle-class family that lived in Sutton Place, who bought and renovated an estate on a hill, and then moved into this suburban world. There is nothing normal or average about this family – they are privileged due to their money, but are presented here as normal, mainstream and as average as anyone else. But when you are a kid, you just assume the way you live is that – normal, and like everyone else. Krauss doesn’t labor this point, but only on reflection of this story, did it dawn on me. This story lulled me, and I enjoyed that aspect.
I like how the excuse to leave New York City for the suburbs was to escape the crime in the city. Yet, the neighborhood they moved into is filled with criminals. At least the socially acceptable gossipy kind of criminals who commit their crimes behind closed doors, and are dutifully punished. Yet, the narrator understands that this just the crime they know about.
I was entertained by this story. This wasn’t life changing fiction, but it didn’t waste my time. I like how Krauss compared her disinterested parents parenting with her generations over parenting, and how neither system seems to be creating better children. Yet both generation of parents tried in their own ways to keep the evils of the world at bay. In the end, a form of evil always found its way in.
Nicole Krauss crafted a story that didn’t follow the hero cycle, or a traditional plot/climax formula. What functioned as the rise in action/climax made sense with the story’s logic, which worked well to give the piece a release of tension that created the felling of resolution. Now, it did have a “Dead Chick in the Basket*” last paragraph, which I don’t want to say too much about as to not spoil the story, but I don’t think it added anything to the ending or point of the story. But that’s my only criticism here.
In the end, “Long Island” played with form and story, and kept me engaged and on my toes. And it made me think about parents and how they tried their best. And it also reminded me that when you are a good writer, there are no rules if you can tell a good story.
* “Dead Chick in the Basket” refers to a clichéd writing device where the final paragraph of a short story contains new information about a character which is meant to make the reader view the actions, statements, or feelings of that character in a different light. The first known use of this device was in J.D. Salinger’s short story “Just Before the War with the Eskimos.”
