Tag: #writing

  • Feeling Better

    I’m feeling better today. I was able to sleep last night, so I have to admit that all of the everything that was balled up in (the anxiety, short temper, loss of interest) was completely based on the impending surgery.

    And the surgery did go well. The kid was home before lunch, and she was feisty as ever. Her eye is bloodshot, and it does itch, which drives her insane as she can’t touch it, which is the only thing she wants to do. The other funny thing was that she refused to take a nap even though she was completely exhausted. (She gets that from me.) But when she went to bed, she crashed out, lost to the world. Until 6am, when she woke us up. Yeah…

    I am the caregiver today. The wife has meetings and is in the office with the door shut, while the kid and I are on the couch watching tv and movies. Well, I’m trying to read, and clearly, I am putting together a blog post. I know that I will need to make lunch and dinner later. Then, a doctor’s appointment to make sure that the kid’s eye is healing correctly. Somewhere in there, I think we’ll take a walk with the dog.

    And though I am feeling better today, I know that I’m still not back. I can feel my anxiety at the periphery of my vision. I’m still not sure what is the best path for me to take.

    What I do know is that right now, I need to be the best dad that I can be. There is a little copy of me on the couch trying to explain the plot of “Ghost Writer,” and that’s my focus for today.

  • The Act of Journaling

    I read an article in this week’s New Yorker, entitled “The Paper Tomb,” about the journals of Claude Fredericks. Who, you ask? In fact, the article starts off the same way. Unless you went to Bennington College, or are a deep dive fan of the novel, “The Secret History,” odds are you are like me, and this would be the first time his name has shown up in your life. What makes Claude Fredericks interesting, at least in this article, is that he spent an entire lifetime journaling, and expected it to be published. Also, Fredricks was an early proponent, autofiction, though in his mind, he saw the journal as the vessel of this media, and not the novel.

    I read the article last night, and I have been thinking about it since. I do like the ambition of a longhaul documentation of one’s life, in the sense that it is a fascinating art project. It’s like Andy Warhol’s “Sleep,” five and a half hours of a guy sleeping. Sure, it’s an anti-film, but it also plays on the idea of documentation to the point where it is actually just witnessing life. Can you truly document an entire life? We all know the answer is no. You cannot witness someone else’s entire life, nor can you get every detail of life down on paper.

    But what is it then? I journal, and I know a great number of other people who journal as well. Hell, Gary Shandling was a prolific with his journals. Are we doing this for ourselves, or do we all intend to have someone read them one day? Isn’t this just a fancy literary way of talking to ourselves?

    I have completed 38 journals that are anywhere from 200 to 300 pages long each. I started when I was 18 and continue to this day. They are in a box in the office, and most days I don’t think about them. Then I complete a journal, and go to throw it into that box, and that’s when I ask myself, who is this really for?

  • A Bad Rehearsal

    Yesterday, I finished a second draft of a story. I had been working on it since September, when the kid went back to school and I got some more free time during the week. I had been sticking to my paradigm of writing, which is to outline the story, and then, you know, do it – write the thing. There’s nothing special there, I have been following this pattern since the summer, and it’s been a help. I have been getting ideas and drafts down on paper. Whether they are good or not is a completely different discussion.

    Anyway, so when I complete a draft, normally, there is a feeling of accomplishment. You know, I got something done. Not like a huge feeling, like I won the big game. More like, I was able to put the Kallax shelf together by myself; that type of accomplishment feeling.

    So, yesterday, when I finished the second draft… I didn’t have that feeling. That feeling of accomplishment didn’t come over me. What I felt was like taking the garbage out. Something happened, but nothing I am proud of.

    I don’t think it’s the story’s fault. At this moment, I like the idea, but that doesn’t mean it will see the light of day.  I could read the thing again, and hate it. Or, I could see it needs another draft.

    As I thought about it, I guess what this most closely feels like is a bad rehearsal for a show. And I love rehearsing. I think I like rehearsing more than I like performing. I like trying out ideas, and seeing what the other performs do, or how they react. I like when someone changes things slightly, and that causes me to trying something new in return. That type of working makes me feel like I am being creative, and makes the rehearsal feel fulfilling.

    Maybe that’s it. It was a bad rehearsal draft. I might need to listen to my gut. It might be a bad draft.

  • Publishing Help

    So, I have a plan.

    And let’s not forget that when you make a plan, God laughs.

    But, I still have a plan, which is that I want to get three short stories in good shape. Meaning, a first and second draft, some editing, and then a final peer review with me asking legitimate question, and not “Did you like it?” Once I get through all of that, then I will start submitting to publications.

    Pretty simple.

    One problem though… I haven’t submitted a story in twenty years. Back then you needed to send a hard copy with a SASE. (SELF ADDRESSED STAMPED ENVELOPE) I think the world has changed a little since then.

    And that’s my point. The world of short story publishing has changed a lot in twenty years. The trouble is that I don’t even know how to get started. Back then I used to buy a copy the yearly publishers guide, and circle all the magazines that I though my work was good for. Not that I ever got published, but I always felt like that was a good starting point. Now, I’m not sure how to begin searching.

    That’s not to say that I haven’t been doing searches, because I am now starting to see ads online popping up for seminars on how to submit and get published. Anywhere from $50 to $300 will give me access to a published author who will give me all the tips and inside tracks of the publishing world.

    That can’t be real, right? If it was that simple, everyone would do it. But, I don’t have a frame of reference right now, so how do I know if that information is incorrect?

    I do also know that I am getting the cart before the horse here. I gotta have material first, if I want to submit. I just want to get started on something, have some feeling of forward motion, and to stop feeling like I’m on the outside looking in.

  • I Should Be Working

    Not sure what I should be working on today. I keep thinking that some idea will pop into my head, but that hasn’t happened. I have been sitting here for an hour now and nothing has come to me.

    What have I been doing for an hour?

    I balanced the family checkbook.

    I watched an episode of the old Addams Family on PlutoTV with my daughter.

    And at the same time, helped the kid spell some words for a book she was writing for her mom.

    I read an article about the Battle of Harlem Heights, which happened this day in 1776.

    There is no school today, in case anyone is wondering why the kid is here right now.

    And now, I’m starting to think about what I’m going to be doing the rest of the day…

    Later today, I’m going to try and convince the kid to watch Tottenham play Stade Rennais FC in the Europa Conference League, but I’ll probably be watching that alone.

    I should be working on some home improvement projects today… I might do that next…

    Oh, I did read an article in The New Yorker about CRT. It was informative.

    I should do a water color sketch.

    You know, my blog posts aren’t getting the views that they used to. I used to get 4 views per post, and for the past two weeks it’s dropped to one. I think my quality of posts is declining, which would explain why the numbers are dropping. Or… WordPress is suppressing my numbers, just like FaceBook and IG do to control your viewing habits.

    But, perhaps I said too much…

    I guess I’m back to using Twitter.