Category Archives: writing

It’s Only Lame Post Friday, After All

I am having a simply dreadful time. This is at least the  fourth time I have logged onto WordPress in the last hour and I cannot seem to compose a blog post.  Even a lame one.  What, I ask, is my problem?

I know, a lot of you have been asking that question for years (you know who you are).

Full disclosure (I use that phrase a lot, don’t I?):   It’s not a “real” Friday for me.  I have to work tomorrow.   Of course overtime can be a beautiful thing, especially when one has already spent the money (who, me, not stay within my budget? I daresay I might if I had one, but let’s leave that alone for now).

I mentioned in yesterday’s post that I have a fun adventure planned for tomorrow.  At least, I hope it will be fun.  It involves some nice friends and helping a worthy cause.  What’s not to like?  Tonight I have rehearsal for Roxy, the play I am in at Ilion Little Theatre, another Mohawk Valley adventure.

Now that I think about it, I seem to remember a few other adventures I never wrote about.  Must think back and try to remember those; I don’t suppose it is too late.

All this by way of introduction to a very brief whine about how I can’t seem to get my brain to write anything substantive TODAY!  I feel certain that this is not an uncommon phenomenon among writers.  Perhaps I could overcome it if I sat here and tried.  Unfortunately, I do not have time for such exertions right now.  I must scurry to rehearsal, and when I get home I must hustle to bed to be up early tomorrow.

As I said, I feel dreadful about it.  But not too dreadful to post this piece of nonsense.  I hope you’re all having a marvelous Friday.

 

World’s Dumbest Monday

Note to self: If you foolishly decide to run the Boilermaker 15K again, be smart enough to take the NEXT DAY OFF.  It was not such a bad day, but oh, it was long, oh, I was tired, and, oh, I do not feel like writing a blog post right now.  I know, what a kvetch. I should get over myself.

In fact, I did write something while at work.  I don’t feel like typing it in (too long, needs editing).   I got two paragraphs typed in before I petered out.  I’ll finish it tomorrow or Wednesday.  Unless I go running on those days and write running commentaries.   After all, a good run might help my aching legs, then I wouldn’t complain so much.

In the meantime, I would like to post something so I can go back to watchingWorld’s Dumbest on TruTV and enjoying the evening with my husband  (you see what I did with that headline:  I’m watching World’s Dumbest and I’m apologizing because today’s post is kind of dumb).  What to write?  What to write?  What to write?

It was my first day back at work after two weeks off.  I’m going to just go ahead and confess, I did not get much writing done during my time off.  How embarrassing is that?  I have to wonder, is this one reason I’m having such trouble today?  I often observe, writing begets writing.  Maybe I just have not been writing enough.

Ah, but the thought brings me a frisson of hope. Perhaps by writing this blog post, dumb as it may be, I will gain some momentum and write something else.   Maybe after a good night’s sleep and something for my aching middle-aged muscles.

 

 

And I’m Missing the Cheesiest Movie!

Yeah, it’s Wrist to Forehead Sunday.  I was afraid it would be.  You see, I started early and had really the best day.  We went to a winery for an art show with music.  It was awesome.  I hope to write a real blog post about it in the coming days, but I just can’t seem to do it right now.

Still, I must write something.  I like to post every day, whether it’s any good or not.  I guess I go through spurts where it’s not very good for several days in a row.  The problem is, it seems one can either be a writer or have a life.  But what a Catch 22 that is!  If you have  life, you don’t have any time to write. If you don’t have a life, you don’t have anything to write about.

Oh, well, I guess that last sentence is not really true.  Apart from this blog, I write fiction.  You can write fiction without having a life, unless it is thinly disguised autobiographical fiction.  I do not write thinly disguised autobiographical stuff; I make things up.  So I could indeed sit home with no friends and no life and write that sort of fiction.

Perhaps I’ll try that one day. Only not tomorrow, because I am meeting a friend to do some fundraising stuff for Team Uncle Leo for the Sitrin Run/Walk to benefit veteran programs.  And I must get ready for the Boilermaker 15K in two weeks.  Oh, and I’m in a play at Ilion Little Theatre.

Stay tuned, when this blog will begin to offer tips on how one can have a life and find time to write.  As soon as I figure it out.

 

By the Way, I Didn’t Run Either

This is Writer’s Blank.  I cannot think of a thing to say beyond lamenting the fact that I cannot think of a thing to say.

Do I really intend to post ANOTHER entry about Not Writing?  Oh, you knew I was going to get around to it sooner or later. My actual plan today is to write this right now so at least I am writing something, then put it in my Save Draft section for use in an emergency.  Of course, I have tried this plan before only to publish it right away, because I did not have anything else.

I wrote the above last September, never finished it, never put it in Save Drafts.  I  wish to heaven I had, because I’ve got a busy weekend ahead and no blog posts in sight.

At least, I wrote a post earlier this week and I had another Mohawk Valley adventure last night.  Additionally, I plan to go running after work, which is usually good for a few hundred words.  Moreover, it is Lame Post Friday.  There is no need whatsoever to stress about what to write for my blog post.  By my own self-imposed rules, I am off the proverbial hook (remember that:  if you ever want to use a cliche, just insert the word “proverbial” and you’re being self-aware and self-deprecating.  Maybe even post-ironic, my favorite).

Full disclosure: I’m not even having Writer’s Blank today.  I wrote another scene in my novel which actually — dare I hope? — advanced the plot.  But you know how it is, you get to the end of a scene and you’re done, unless you can think of another scene, which I could not.

Further disclosure:  My weekend got a little less stressed after I wrote the fourth paragraph when Saturday overtime got cancelled.  I would even have time to think of a real, non-lame Friday post, if I felt so inclined.

Obviously I do not.  Now I’m only sitting here trying to think of a good Lame headline.  So far nothing is coming.

 

Only Tuesday?

I wrote a post while at work today (yes, Boss, while on a break) (oh yeah, like my boss reads my blog; I don’t think he even knows I write one).  And I just can’t post it.  It may be all right as stands, it may need editing, I may not use it.  I just can’t work with these things right now.  Yes, my dears, it is Tired Tuesday.

How is it only Tuesday, anyways?  When I look at all the things I have to and want to get done this week, it seems such a ridiculously short period of time.  Then I see how far away Friday and my fun weekend seem and I say, damn.  Of course one must fight the prevailing attitude to despise the week and only enjoy the weekend.  What’s that all about anyways?  We have seven days a week.  Why would anybody choose to be happy for two of them and miserable for five?

Oh dear, now we are getting into some half-baked philosophy, which I usually reserve for Lame Post Friday.  The subject of “choosing” happiness is a sore  spot for me anyways.  We can’t always choose how we feel.  Sometimes, I say, you just have to feel that way until you don’t feel that way any more.  For example, right now I feel tired.

However, I would like to write something other than “I’m tired” in this blog post.  I can give you a brief update on the novel.  It is not going well.  I’ve written a couple of scenes and partial scenes.  They are all very well, but they do not seem to lead anywhere.  I think I need a little more “because of this, then that,” if you see what I mean.

There, how’s that?  Three paragraphs about how tired I am, then four sentences about my novel, which tell you absolutely nothing about it.  I really gotta love writing a blog. Hope to see you all on Wuss-out Wednesday.

 

Maybe a Thunderstorm Would Have Helped

Today is Mental Meanderings Monday.  Last Monday I said I could not make up my mind between Mental Meanderings and Monday-Middle-aged Musings, but today I feel pretty meandery.  My mind wanders.  If my feet didn’t hurt so much my body might wander, but let’s not worry about that right now.

 

This happens sometimes, as long time readers may have noticed.  I’ll go days and weeks of dumb post after dumb post.  The sad thing is, many of these days I am so writing something during the day.  Then I kind of peter out before I get to the blog post.  I know, I should write the blog post first.  I’ll try that tomorrow.

 

Today was a sticky, muggy day.   I do not feel as if my brain is fried, but perhaps it may have been steamed.  And not crisp-tender, like my vegetables when they turn out right.   Limp, discolored, useless.

 

We were promised thunder storms.  Many of my co-workers spend half the day on their smart phones, looking at the internet or getting texts from their loved ones.  In the latter case, the loved ones have often been on some device to get the weather and share what they have learned.  So I heard severe thunderstorms were headed our way.  Then I heard there was a tornado watch.

 

“If there is a tornado, I’m not going to watch,” I said.  “I’ll go into my skanky basement and hide.”  My basement is pretty skanky.  It wasn’t that great to start with and it has never recovered from the flood of 2013.  I am not motivated to do much about it, although I suppose it would behoove me to do so.

 

Local readers know there were no thunder storms, much less any tornadoes.  We had rain.  Which means I do not have to water my plants again today.  Score!  I’m going to hit Publish on this piece of nonsense and pick up a notebook (do I need to specify I mean the spiral-bound paper kind?) and get a start on tomorrow’s post.

 

Now Is YOUR Wrist On Your Forehead?

I am NOT having Wrist to Forehead Sunday, as I threatened to in the final paragraph of yesterday’s post.  My wrist is nowhere NEAR my forehead (something I’ve noticed about myself:  I like to intersperse my writings with all caps for emphasis).  I am in a relatively cheerful mood, considering, among other problems, that I have no idea of what to write a blog post about.

 

Then again, how many posts are like this?  Is it getting old yet?  Who cares if it is?  I’m old too!  So there!

 

OK, I’m being silly, because I like to be silly.  I had a good, long run this morning.  Over an hour.  I was actually psyched to write a Running Commentary about it.  Then I sat down at the keyboard (still this morning) and couldn’t do it.  Why not?  I don’t know.  It happens sometimes.  Sometimes you can say to yourself, “Oh, just write that post,” and do it.  Sometimes not so much.

 

I had a marvelous time last night, hearing a band at a local spot.  I had a fun time this afternoon, attending an event at an area historical attraction.  I intend to write blog posts about both subjects.  But I want to sit at my notebook and ponder, write, edit and write some more.  You know, make a good job of  it.

 

That, I suppose, is dangerous.  Now people may be Expecting something of me.  Perhaps they already do.  Well, I can’t help it if they are doomed to disappointment.  I can only write what I can write.  Let’s see what I can write tomorrow.  I do hope somebody will tune in.

 

As If I Had Actually Written Something

Oh, just type anything.

 

That is what I finally said to myself after staring at the blank space under “Add New Post” on the wordpress page.   It is Monday, so I know I can do a Middle-age Musing Monday or a Monday Mental Meanderings (still can’t decide between those two).  However, whatever I do, I must actually type words into the computer.

 

It’s a funny thing about words and me.  Sometimes they just fall out of my fingers, via pen or keyboard.  Today at work (BEFORE work and while ON BREAK, in case you were concerned), I wrote almost two pages on my novel (YES, the novel I was supposed to finish in May, don’t judge).  Got to the end of the scene, yes!

 

Couldn’t start another scene.  I was just blank.  And the blankness continues.  All I can write about, and I realize this seems to happen to me frequently, is the fact that I can’t write.   AAAUUUGH!!!

 

I could blame the weather:  it became cold and rainy today.  It brought on flashbacks to 2013.  In 2013, I had signed up for a St. Baldrick’s Day fundraiser.  I asked for donations to help cure children’s cancer, then I got my head shaved.  That happened June 2.  It was swelteringly hot all May.  I cursed my hair, which I had not cut for almost two years.  I got it shaved.   Then the weather turned cold.  It was a rainy, miserable June.  Then Herkimer flooded on June 30.

 

You know, I could have expanded that last paragraph into a full blog post, and it would have looked as if I had actually written something.  Silly me.

 

Excuse Me, I’m Having a Lame Here

I have two days left of Finish That Novel May.  Earlier I was toying with the idea of denying I ever said that.

 

“No, no, what I said was, ‘I MAY Finish That Novel.’  You misheard me.”

 

The writing took a turn for the better since yesterday.  I wrote and wrote.  Maybe if I cancelled all my plans for the weekend and wrote non-stop…   I think we all know that is not going to happen.  For one reason, I have had weekends when I had no plans at all.  I have not written non-stop.  For another reason, my plans are important and not just for me.  I have a life outside of this novel.

 

And there we have it.  Am I allowed to have a life outside of being a writer?  I’m sure there are people out there who would say (hear it in that squeaky, nyah-nyah voice we mimic people we hate in):  “If writing is important to you, you’ll write.”  And then they go on to list all the things THEY have given up to write.  Which is nice, if it is the things they HAVE given up and not the things they would have given up if, in fact, they wrote and didn’t just go around telling others how to write.

 

Oh, OK, other writers do make sacrifices of things they might like to do in order to write.  So do I. Sometimes.  Perhaps I need to sacrifice a little more.  The thing is, I have always been of the opinion that the more you experience, the more material you have to work with.  That, and when I was younger, I really wanted to LIVE.  I had spent a lot of time sitting at home reading or writing stories.  Once I got older, I got out and DID things.  I guess I kind of got in the habit of it.

 

Of course, going out and doing things is good for a writer of a daily blog.  But we’re talking about a novel today.  On the other hand, we are writing a blog post.   A Lame Friday Post.  And I declare it done.  I am going back to my life. Maybe write a little more on that novel.

 

Just a Note

This blog, you may have noticed, has hit a dry spell.  I can blame it on trying to train for the Boilermaker 15K or on Finish That Novel May or, today for example, on the headaches with which I am occasionally plagued.  But it may just be me.  Operator error, as it were.

 

I have completed four years of writing this silly blog, and I have not missed a day (except for once when the electricity went out and I posted late) (and occasionally when I have typed in my posts early and set WordPress to publish them at the proper time, although I don’t think that counts as missing a day).  Every writer hits a dry spell.  Oh well, I suppose some do not, or else they lie about it.  And I’m sure many non-writers feel that dry spells are just laziness or self-dramatization.

 

Where was I going with this?  Ah yes, my dry spell.  I’ve been eking things out with Pedestrian Posts, Running Commentary, and Posts About How I Can’t Write a Post Today.  Many bloggers simply take a little time off.  I’m afraid if I do that I will never start again.  No loss to the blogosphere, you say?  You could be right, although it is unkind to point that out.  It would be a loss to me.

 

I like posting something every day, even if it is just a note to my readers telling them I do not have much to say.  I will say thank you for reading.  Writing a blog has made me a better writer and a more consistent writer.  And it is very fun.  I hope you’ll tune in tomorrow, when I will try NOT to have a Wrist to Forehead Sunday.