Category Archives: writing

Monday Muddle

Today I discovered that I can once again write with ease and fluency in a laundromat. Unfortunately, I did not make this discovery by writing a blog post. On the brighter side, my novel is once again progressing. On the duller side, the evening is wearing on, I want to go to bed early, I must make my post and anything I can think of to write about is just going to take TOO LONG.

Oh dear, now all those people who just have to be that way are shaking their superior heads at what they perceive as my lack of willingness to put in a little effort. If you are one of those people, please comment with a link to your blog so that I can see how you do it. What am I saying? None of my dear readers are snotty, superior sorts (and by “superior,” I mean “think they are better than others.” I’m sure my readers are superior in the sense that they are clearly superior people to people who do not read my blog).

Now I’m being silly. Then again, I always say go with your strengths.

In my defense, I had real Mohawk Valley adventures and wrote about them on Saturday and Sunday. It would be nice to make three real posts in a row. I’m sure I’ve done it before. I’ll see what I can come up with as the week progresses.

I hope you all had a nice Monday.

Brain Freeze

Yes, it is winter in the Mohawk Valley. We got another arctic blast today, with temperatures rising only into the single digits. It’s too cold for Mohawk Valley adventures, I tell you!

Oh, I know, some people manage to do whatever they have decided to do, whatever the obstacles. Or claim they do, or WOULD if they HAD decided to do (whatever it is I can’t do). What I can’t do today is write a decent blog post. Sorry, folks.

I’m blaming the weather, but I think it is actually the fault of my precarious health. I think I’m coming down with another cold or a virus or something. I’ve been lightheaded all day, and all I really want to do is lie flat on my back and stare at the ceiling. Or sit on the couch and stare at the television.

As symptoms go, I can’t really complain. This is not as bad as pain or nausea. Not as annoying as a stuffed nose or a scratchy throat. I almost feel as if I have no good excuse for taking another blogger’s sick day.

Except that these foolish paragraphs are really all I can manage, writing-wise. I do hope the weather is not to blame, since the cold is expected to last till the weekend. At least I hope to come up with something somewhat better for tomorrow. As always, I hope you’ll stay tuned.

Can’t Think of a Title, Either

Yes, it is Wrist to Forehead Sunday. Again.

I had not meant to have a Wrist to Forehead Sunday, and by “had not meant,” of course I mean “thought in a vague sort of way.” Oh, well, I guess we all knew I was likely to have my wrist to my forehead by this time. These things happen. Especially to me.

I did have a Mohawk Valley adventure this morning, which I had meant to write about. I’m afraid that must be a preview of coming attractions, however, because I just don’t feel capable of writing about it today. Why is that? I DON’T KNOW!

In fact, I had a headache for most of the day. I had not meant to mention it, because people who complain all the time are tiresome. But that is why I did not feel inclined to write earlier. My head feels much better now (you see, I don’t complain ALL the time) but still not capable of writing.

The writing has been going very badly for a while now. However, one must not worry about these things. One must persevere and wait until things get better. Hmm… That is probably a good rule for many things in life. But that sounds more like some half-baked philosophy suitable for Lame Post Friday. Now there’s something to look forward to.

Hmmmm… Who Do I Kill?

It’s supposed to be easy to write a post on Lame Post Friday; that’s why I invented it. But we all know, sometimes, not so much. Oh, I know, as soon as I say “we all” or “everybody” or anything universal, SOMEBODY is sure to say, “I don’t know that” or “I don’t feel that way” or “Not necessarily.” Well, I don’t know exactly how to spell the raspberry sound, and truth be known, I almost never make that noise anyways, so, OK, if you want to say any of those things, I’ll let it slide. This time.

Where was I? Oh yes, nowhere. I did not write anything at work today. I don’t feel capable of writing anything now. It’s not Writer’s Blank, it’s not Writer’s Block, it’s not Writer’s Anything, because I don’t feel like I’m a writer any more.

Oh dear, I didn’t mean to say that. But since I did, I may as well share my current crisis, because, actually, I think it’s kind of funny. You see, I’m writing this murder mystery, and I don’t want to kill any of my characters. I like them all. And it’s not only that, I keep thinking how upset certain other characters will be if I kill off that one. Oh, or that one. I’ve even changed my mind about the murderer at least twice.

Writers who outline and stick to their outlines are now indulging in superior laughing, finger pointing and head shaking. Oh, like YOU never have problems! I’ve argued with these imaginary superior sorts before. Even when I win, I lose.

OK, I’m over 250 words. Lame, but done. I’m going to hit Publish and get on with my weekend. May your Friday be un-lame and your weekend be happy.

At Least I Have Clean Socks

I thought laundromats were supposed to be good places to write. For me they usually are. Well, it has been a bad writing vacation for me. I admit it.

I have read many times and in fact I knew it without reading it, that it is a fallacy to tell yourself, “Just wait until vacation; then I can write ALL DAY LONG.” You won’t, especially if you are out of the habit of writing.

In this instance, I am quite justified in arguing, “But I’m NOT out of the habit of writing!” I write a blog post every day, I work on my novel almost every day, I write letters, post cards, the TV Journal and miscellaneous other crap as the opportunity arises.

I feel quite misused by my own brain.

Those who love to give superior advice (you know who you are), say with a sniff, “If you WANT to write, you’ll write.” Thank you for your input. If I want to run a marathon, I’ll run a marathon. If I want to flap my arms and fly to the moon, I may have a problem. I could compare writing a novel to either of those desires, but I am really not up to metaphor today.

I fall back on what I have always said, one does one’s poor best.

And every day is an opportunity to do better. What an appropriate thought for New Year’s Eve (which is today). I can work on that novel as soon as I’m done typing this in. Or I can write a better blog post and leave this one in the wings for future use (in case of emergency, hit “publish”).

In the meantime, at least I got my pen moving.

As a side note: after I wrote the above, I turned a page in my notebook and wrote a post about a horror movie I watched yesterday. I think it is a good post and I will probably publish it soon. Waste not, want not.

Tumbling Thoughts

It’s not Wuss-out Wednesday. In fact, I spent a good portion of my day at work lamenting that it was not Wednesday yet. Yeah, yeah, I know, wishing my life away. I’m not going to sit here and justify my desire for the weekend. I have a headache.

Where was I? Ah yes, wussing out. I’m afraid, in fact, that it is Yet Another Post About How I Can’t Write a Post Today. Why can’t I write today? The headache? It’s not that bad. The fact that I’m sitting in the laundromat on a cold December night? No, laundromats are good places to write, and cold December nights are often strangely conducive.

I wrote a little on my novel while at work. About half a page. Actually, as I type it into the computer, a handwritten page translates (transposes?) into more than a page typed. Then again, how many pages will I throw out when I finally figure out what the plot is and begin to revise?

Perhaps I should not include that last sentence. It will give the outlining writers a chance to get all smug and point out that THEY already know the plot BEFORE they begin writing. Well, that’s nice for you.

I wonder if I ought to be concerned that the only thing I seem capable of writing is stuff about not being able to write. Seriously, I keep flipping back pages and trying to continue with things started previously. Nothing doing.

Having neglected to bring a book or a deck of cards, it seems I must either continue writing this post or sit here and watch minutes pass as counted down by the clothes drier.

Full disclosure: I wrote the above while sitting at the laundromat and stopped writing after the last sentence. I am now sitting at home, typing this into the computer. I see I am approaching 300 words. That’s a whole lot of nothing. I’ll stop now and hope for a better post tomorrow.

A Weary Wuss

Wuss-out Wednesday is getting to be a habit. In my defense, I’m tired.

Yesterday I avoided writing a post about Why I Can’t Write a Post by going for a run and writing about that. Today I’m too tired to run.

My husband, Steven, has spent the first half of this week fighting a cold. At last it seems he is victorious. And now it looks like my turn to suffer. So my lovely blog readers have that to look forward to: me kvetching about my symptoms. So far the main symptom is I’m TIRED!

Other people can write when they are tired. I bet some people are reading this with a smug look, saying, “I can write when I’m tired. It’s not that hard.” Well, THAT’S NICE FOR YOU!

We were at the laundromat earlier this evening, where I wrote a page on my novel. It was not a very good page, perhaps, but at least I wrote it. I’m tempted to use that as my reason: I used up all my words for the day on that! How can I be expected to write a blog post as well?

I know, it doesn’t work like that. It’s not a bucket, where you take stuff out and then it’s gone. It’s more a river: as you take stuff out even more flows in to take its place. Well, my river today is full of sediment (give me a metaphor, I’ll beat it till it screams).

I think the best thing to do is to take my weary body to bed and hope it’s only bluffing about coming down with a cold. I hope to come up with something more amusing for Non-Sequitur Thursday.

Suitable for Wuss-out Wednesday

My life has been thin of Mohawk Valley adventures lately. On perusing the TV Journal, I find I am out of cheesy movies to write about as well. What’s a blogger to do?

Well, I was about to stop writing entirely, because my pen was beginning to seriously irritate my middle finger (cue jokes about that being my most often used digit). Then I remembered I had a pen with a built-in spongy thing in my pocket. I don’t usually leave the house without at least two or three pens plus paper. That’s how I roll.

So, spongy thing in place, what can I possibly write about? I suppose I could give another shout-out to Colonial Laundromat in Ilion, NY. That’s why I had no adventures Monday night; we had to do laundry. There isn’t much to say about that, except that it is a pleasure to at least have a clean place to do a tiresome chore, especially given my regrettable tendency to drop my brand-clean laundry on the floor.

Getting back to What Shall I Write About, I feel disinclined to do another Preview of Coming Attractions. For one reason, sometimes I don’t make it to the thing I previewed and then I feel silly or guilty.

That is as far as I wrote. Full disclosure: I wrote it on Tuesday, then remembered I had been to Ilion Little Theatre on Friday. However, on finding it in my notebook today, I deem it suitable for Wuss-out Wednesday. Hmm, that’s not a bad headline either. Waste not, want not!

Curse You, Vincent Price!

What is it about Vincent Price? I start to write a perfectly straightforward post about one of his movies and I get all bogged down and confused and it takes me days to get it right.

At least, the one I started today hasn’t taken me days yet, but I can see which way the wind is blowing. First it was The Tingler. Now it’s The Mad Magician. What’s a blogger to do but write about the problems she’s having writing. (I didn’t end that last sentence with a question mark, because it is rhetorical. I don’t need any smart answers from the peanut gallery.)

After all, I avoided Wrist to Forehead Sunday. I think I’m entitled to a Middle-aged Musings Monday. I shall muse about my trials and tribulations as a writer.

The problem I had with The Tingler and am having with The Mad Magician is neither Writer’s Block nor Writer’s Blank. It’s quite the opposite. I have too much to say (some people think I have too much to say at all times, but I daresay they don’t read my blog, so we need not consider them).

Usually, having too much to say is not a problem. I just write and write till it’s all said. I find that fun. In this case, however, my thoughts do not flow in a logical fashion. I start out talking about pre-movie commentary, jump to the plot, jump back and add in the spoiler alert, remember something I forgot from the commentary, go off on a whole other tangent.

Some may say that’s still no problem. Just write it all down they say, perhaps in a condescending, overly patient voice (you know who you are). Sort it out later. Well, that is what I’m doing. However, these things take time and effort and a good deal more oomph that I can generally muster on a Monday.

I repeat, what’s a blogger to do?

Yes, Another Damn Headache

Dear Reader,

Please excuse Mohawk Valley Girl from making a blog post today. She has a very bad headache.

Sincerely,
Mohawk Valley Girl

OK, that was really lame, and it is not Lame Post Friday yet. I would like to spout out some half-baked philosophy regarding the contention that a foolish blog post is better than no blog post at all. But, again, half-baked philosophy is for Lame Post Friday. What I am really hoping for, however, is I Don’t Have a Headache Friday.

Interesting phenomenon: I dragged myself from my sickbed to write just a couple of lines so that I’ve posted something, and I can’t seem to stop typing.

OK, now I can.