On this Thing Called Writing (#2)

I will keep this short, but not so sweet--yes, something new for me. However, I think it is the most effective way to clear up a feeling that has gripped me these past two weeks. A sort of self-doubt, I guess. Or rather a sin I possess. Perhaps, conceit? I am not quite sure, that is why I am spitballing here. Whatever it is, I need to share it so that I can move on with my writing. 

Okay, now to the point. 

On this Thing Called Writing (#1)

This post is a day overdue, because life got in the way, as did a new writing goal. Yesterday I put blogging aside in order to type up seventeen hundred plus words daily exercise. The NaNoWriMo organization sets aside the month of November for a challenge. Each year, members call on amateur writers to sit down and draft their first novels. They have set the mark at 50,000 words in thirty days. That works out to about 1,666 words every twenty four hours (I have rounded it to 1,700). There is no expectation that what comes out in the end is publishable, let alone resembling what you started. Just that you sit down, and each day, write a chunk of a story that has been gestating in your mind.

Meandering Thoughts (#13)

It is 7:30 pm, on Halloween, and I managed to finish this post. Sure, the laundry isn't done. I am a bit bloated from the candy. The image choice is uninspiring. And since I still have a load of candy to give away, I can't just shut down for the evening. So, I don't expect to get much else accomplished.

Yet, I have this blog post. 

So, for the moment, I am happy.

(Okay, I changed my mind. I am going to include a better image. I was looking for a tavern scene, because I mention one below. This one is more rowdy than the one I wrote about. And a lot more fun.)

A Brief Interlude (#15)

Around eleven this morning, I began typing up a blog post. That is very early for me. It should have been a cause for celebration. However, I abandoned the project, partly because I had an errand scheduled thirty minutes later that I could not avoid. But mostly because my heart really was not in it. Well, my heart was there, just the darker part. 

(I know I have used this image before, because, for some reason, I am fond of it.)

Confessions (#16)

Right now I am laughing. I managed to get this post done by 5 pm on a Sunday night, which is on the earlier side for me. If you read through to the end, you will understand why I think this is funny.

This is yet another weekly post on a blog I have managed to maintain for one-and-a-half years. Yes, I missed a week or two, here and there. But at one time I was putting up three posts a week. 

I have to believe each step is leading up to somewhere. Though, skipping a few would not be so bad, right? Maybe even taking the elevator a few times?

Sigh. Step by step, one flight of stairs at a time it is...

(I went searching for images of the "Nine Muses"-- I previously thought that there were just three. The classical versions were disappointing, and I could not find any modern versions. However, through this process, I did discover the artist John Everett Millais. Two of his paintings struck me. I could not decide which one to use. So, I am sharing both. Some day I will produce my own "Nine Muses", either in the form of a story, or a series of drawings. Perhaps both. )

 

On How I Became a Writer (Part 4)

This began as a short piece reflecting on a memorable experience that involved writing. At the start, I assumed I knew how I wanted to conclude it. However, as it unfolded, the substance of it darted off towards the horizon. I started running after. Unfortunately, this all happened at dusk. Now, under evening's darkness, the damn purpose has eluded me. 

So now this post has become a long backstory that ends abruptly--I am too exhausted to pursue it any further. 

(Also, I should be more careful about viewing documentaries about black holes.)

My apologies.

A Brief Interlude (#14)

This is not going to be a pleasant read. But I have studied history. As a result, I hold out hope for a better world. I will strive to act, and do my best to play my part with kindness, intelligence, compassion, and humility.

However, for the moment, despite my optimism, I cannot help but weep.

Thus tonight's post.

(I struggled between three images for this post. The first was way too dark, even for what I had written about. The other two were Norman Rockwell works. I considered his illustration, The Problem We All Live With, for its historical context. However, I thought Ruby Bridges deserved a better placement than today's post. Instead, I went with Breakfast Table Political Arguments. I think it aptly reflects the state of current political discourse. I some times feel like I am the child.)

Meandering Thoughts (#12)

Sigh. I know. I'm writing about the wrong season. However, I wrote about autumn before. Especially about the first month of school. So, I decided to maintain that emotional draw of fall, but relate it to another memory, but one that occurred in the opposing season. Clever, right? Not really. I just started typing away, hiding in one direction. Then I got pulled into a different one. Driven partly by my procrastination, and partly by sheer physical exhaustion (painting, laundry, cleaning, hauling), I reigned in my original idea for this post, reworked it, condensed it. And now I am going to find an image, and be done with it.

(Yeah, this guy again. You'll understand soon enough.)

My Reading Habit (Part 1)

Last week's post was a bit of a downer. However, completing it when I did (early in the afternoon, instead of late at night) was a small, but sharp strike against my procrastination. In addition, getting it out of my head, onto a page (albeit, a digital one) pinned down my self-doubt. Finally, discovering a beautiful image within minutes of searching, was a simple act that snapped me out of my self-loathing.

This week's post should read a little lighter. And probably shorter*. After all, I still have a lot on my mind.

* [Future Me: "Sorry, it ain't shorter... and it may not be darker, but it sure is denser."]

(I love facial expressions. Especially subtle, but noticeable ones. And I love paintings of people reading--I know I have already posted this one by Edward Hopper, or this one by Jean-Honoré Fragonard. So, when I Googled "famous illustrations of someone reading" the one below jumped out at me. It was hidden in a themed Twitter feed. There were quite a few other fascinating ones in there. Seriously, I may have to try reading in the nude.

Whatever this young lady is reading, she sure finds it intriguing.)

Confessions (#15)

Another Sunday night, another blog post to write. That means reflection. Tonight's introspection revealed a series of minor regrets.  Most of which centered on two habits that I have struggled with all my life. And how they interfere with other habits I want to build, and a few I want to restore. Like reading. I want to read more books, especially works of fiction. A few days ago I took a big step that I hoped would motivate me.

I let those two fucking habits get in my way.

So here I am bitching about it.

Sigh.

(At least it inspired a post.)

(I do enjoy looking at Edward Hopper paintings. They make me feel better. Discovered this one today. Maybe not his best, but I like the colors, and the simplicity. Something about that figure, too...)