Tag Archives: not writing

A Word to the Wuss

I should have seen it coming that if I had a Tired Tuesday, I would only be up to a Wuss-out Wednesday the next day. Well, sorry folks. I’m down. Down, down, down in the dumps.

I spent most of the day down in the dumps. I don’t mean to be tiresome, but I just can’t always be the cheerful Mohawk Valley Girl. Some people can write when they are down. I say power to them. All I could do on breaks at work was to work on puzzles in a puzzle book. That did not improve my mood to any marked degree, because I’ve done all the puzzles I like. All that is left is puzzles that I don’t like or are too hard for me or both.

Now I am being exceptionally tiresome. What a kvetch.

In my defense, after work I did come home and do a few useful things. I worked on dismantling my container garden. Astute readers (do I have any other kind?) may remember that on Monday I felt guilty for running and not working on that or on raking the lawn. My delightful husband Steven raked the lawn on Tuesday. I wanted to contribute.

After a short Facebook break, I typed into the upstairs computer what I have written so far on my articles to submit to Mohawk Valley Living magazine. Um, I did not write them today. I did not add to them either. After exhausting myself literarily (my computer is underlining that word, but my dictionary says it is correct) if not literally, I chopped vegetables and began making a salad for my lunch tomorrow. When it was almost time for Steven to be home, I put Tabby on the leash and walked out to meet him. I could probably have written my blog post on that walk. Oh well, missed a bet.

I perceive that I am over 300 words. Perhaps they are not good words, but they are words nonetheless. Ooh, that raises a question suitable for some half-baked philosophy on Lame Post Friday: Isn’t it the ARRANGEMENT of the words that is not good and the words themselves neutral? Followed by a listing of words that I say are good words. I’ll let the reader fill in the bad words for him or herself. I bet some of you already are.

Tired of Not Writing

I just looked back at my posts for the past week and see that last week I had a Tired Tuesday. I am mortified to admit to being tired again today. I am further mortified to notice that last Tuesday I at least had the excuse that I had just done laundry. Today all I did was come home and take my dog Tabby for a walk. I had thought to write a Pedestrian Post, but my brain seems uncooperative.

In fact, all my brain seems to want to write is Wrist to Forehead Tuesday. After all, I did not have Wrist to Forehead Sunday, I wrote about something! Then yesterday I didn’t have Middle-aged Musings Monday, I wrote about something! Couldn’t I have gone three days in a row writing about something? Apparently not. That is why my wrist is inclined to go to my forehead in the usual dramatic gesture.

I’ve been having a bad writing day all day. When I got to work this morning (arriving early to have writing time, as usual), I opened my notebook and looked at it. Then I reached for my puzzle book. Many years ago, i would always do a puzzle before working on my novel (whichever novel I was working on at the time). It would clear my brain, since I was always reading somebody else’s fiction at the time. Today, however, reaching for my puzzle book was not a good idea. I have done all the puzzles I like. I am reduced to looking at the “Hard” crossword puzzles, which are, I admit it, too hard for me. Alas.

On break and at lunch I couldn’t write either. My brain rebelled. I had been thinking about my novel a lot while I was working. This usually helps. Today not so much. So here I am, writing this ridiculous blow-by-blow of me not writing. How embarrassing is that!

But what can one do? Hit “Publish” and try again tomorrow, as usual. I hope my readers are all having a pleasant Tuesday.

It’s Pouring Rain and I’m Cooking Sausage

When I said I would try not to have a Wuss-out Wednesday this week, I did not say anything about not having a Non-Sequitur Thursday. For one thing, today is my Friday. What could be more non-sequitur than that? Oh, I suppose a few things. Enlighten me, if you feel you must.

It actually feels more like a Tired Thursday, but that doesn’t have the same alliterative ring that Tired Tuesday does. I did try to write something during the day at work. I opened my notebook, took out a pen and turned to a blank page. In between breaks (you know, while I was working), I thought about what I could write. The result was a few more paragraphs on my novel. Not good paragraphs. That novel is at kind of a standstill, but I’m still plugging away. I am determined to bring it to some sort of a conclusion.

After work I went to the grocery store. I bought plenty of ingredients for a few good cooking posts by the end of the weekend. And when I say “good,” I mean I expect the food to taste good. I make no guarantees about the writing (although I flatter myself that I am not contemptible in that department).

It was raining when I left work, so I thought I was off the hook for walking Tabby. The rain stopped by the time I got home but looked ready to start up again at any excuse. Tabby doesn’t like to walk in the rain. I was afraid if we started our walk and the rain started back up that Tabby would stand still and look at me, expecting to be magically and instantly transported back home.

Still, she was so excited to see me and did seem to expect an adventure. I thought, oh hell, it’ll be something to write a blog post about. We set out. It almost immediately began to rain again but very lightly. For once Tabby didn’t seem to notice. I had put on a warm jacket and had the hood up, so I was fairly comfortable, except for my back.

Like many people who are overweight and over 40, I suffer from back pain. Today I blame work. I spent the morning standing and the afternoon sitting. My back likes it better when I am up and down. I thought, this is OK. A walk always helps. Today, not so much. So we only walked for a block. At least Tabby seemed to enjoy it.

And that has been my Thursday/Friday. I see this bit of blathering on has gotten my word count over 400. I’ll just slap a kicky headline on and call it a day. Hope to see you on Lame Post Friday.

Just one quick note: Do you find this is more Stream of Consciousness than Non Sequitur? I’m afraid it might be.

I Want to Watch World’s Dumbest!

It is a sad thing to be Tired on Tuesday when you are pretty sure you are going to Wuss-out on Wednesday. And yet, here I am.

As usual, I knew this would happen. I knew I should write a blog post while at work today. But there were cryptogram puzzles to solve and husbands to call (OK, just one husband; I thought it would be more symmetrical to make it plural) (I did solve more than one cryptogram puzzle). That’s OK, I thought. We planned to go to the laundromat after work. I can always write at the laundromat.

At the laundromat, after putting our clothes in the washer and bringing the detergent and bleach back out to the SUV, I sat down with my notebook. I opened it to the next blank page. I wrote the date. And I sat there. Oh yeah, I can’t always write at the laundromat.

Steven discovered some People magazine. No, no, I had to write. I looked at the notebook. I read the magazine. Actually, I mostly paged through it and looked at some of the pictures. I don’t know most of the current celebrities. I am so not mainstream.

I tried again after we got the clothes into the drier. Still no luck. This time I read The New Yorker. I felt pretty classy till I realized I wasn’t finishing any of the articles I started. I gave up and paged through looking at the cartoons. And I thought I was an intellectual.

Eventually we finished the burdensome chore and came home. I had sensibly put some stuff in the crock pot, so dinner was forthcoming. I can usually write better after a good meal.

As you can see, not so much. So here is today’s post, about not being able to write a post. I don’t promise a better post for tomorrow, but we can hope. I’m going to watch television and knit till bedtime.

Sweats On, Bra Off

Sorry folks, but I’m taking my Wrist to Forehead day today instead of Sunday. Look at the time! It’s after 6 o’clock! I should be in my sweats on, bra off, wine drinking, movie watching portion of the day. This is what I look forward to on a Saturday night. Oh, sometimes something more exciting beckons. But this is what I like.

The sad thing is I had a wonderful Mohawk Valley adventure earlier and I wrote over 800 words about it. I could post them as a blog post, but I feel strangely disinclined to do so. Must let the words simmer. They may appear here at a later date.

What I find truly sad here is that my usual finding has been disproved. Usually if I write something, anything, I can just keep writing. I’ve done it here. My first paragraph laments that I have nothing to say, then I go at some length in fact saying something (of varying degrees of interest, I admit, but let’s not begin that argument). Instead, I feel written out. I can find no words to recount any of my recent adventures. I can find no words to poke fun at this malaise. I call that a wrist to forehead situation.

On the brighter side, dinner is in the oven, my husband is home, World’s Dumbest is on the television, and I’ve typed in at least 200 words of this nonsense. I’m going to go put my sweats on.

Not Blankety-Blank Much

Some bloggers only post weekly or three times a week or whenever the spirit hits them. Sometimes I wish I was some bloggers. Other times I feel kind of proud of myself for posting something every day (except for the day the big tree got hit by lightning and the electricity went out till morning; then I was late). I must confess: today is one of the former kind of days.

At least it started that way. I must further confess: as soon as my fingers started typing, the fascination with the blog kicked in again and now I’m thinking, “What can I come up with today?” I’m a little afraid the answer will be, “Not blankety-blank much.” But one must carry on.

In my defense, it is Wuss-out Wednesday (ooh, here’s a Freudian typo: Wuss-pout. I fixed it, though). I know I do a lot of blog posts about not writing a better blog post. I feel guilty about it, but, you know, not guilty enough to stop.

The funny thing is, I worked hard on my blog post yesterday. I tried to write it at work but did not succeed. I typed in the paragraph I had written, then tried to compose a little more, got bogged down, persevered. Several times I thought, “Oh, I can’t do this properly today. I’ll save the draft and write a foolish post for today, then fix it tomorrow.” But I had a rehearsal to get to and not much confidence in my ability to be amusing in a foolish post.

I can hear the nay-sayers now, saying (in addition to “nay”), “About that… you’re not being particularly amusing today, now, are you?”

I reply that I do not think that is a very nice thing to say. Stick to a simple “Nay” if you must. Or practice the art of silence.

The nay-sayer pounces on this: “That’s it! The Art of Silence! That is what you should do! Get on that now!”

I think we all know that is not going to happen. However, in the interests of readers who prefer a more substantive blog post, I will endeavor NOT to have Non-Sequitur Thursday this week.

About Lame Post Friday, I make no promises.

Brain, Where Are Your Now?

Here we are, on another Wrist to Forehead Sunday, and I have a bad case of type it in, backspace it out. It’s worse than Writer’s Block, not as bad as Writer’s Blank. One must count one’s blessings after all.

I feel my brain has been deserting me lately. Part of the problem is the changing weather. Sinus pain is kind of hard to think around. It’s too close to the brain. Hmmm, now I’m asking myself: can I really write better with back pain, stomach pain, foot pain, pains in the ass? Must do a study. First bit of information: not easy to write with sinus pain. I’ll make a note of that. Maybe start a new Pain Notebook and get all scientific about it.

Be that as it may, I need to type in something I can publish today. Incidentally, I’m not in sinus pain right now. However, I conquered the pain with a decongestant, which dopes me out. It’s kind of fascinating, this spacey, light-headed feeling. But not easy to write.

I did write a little bit today: I finished a letter and wrote two postcards. As you may guess, that did not involve a lot of words. And I’m not convinced they were particularly memorable words. Still, with personal mail, you can get away with that. You know the recipient will be happy just to get real mail. If it’s any good to read, that’s just gravy.

And now I see I am over 200 words. Phew! I can get back to my Sunday, which will involve the viewing of Halloween movies. Happy October, everyone!

Fool for Thought

Wrist to Forehead Sunday morphs painfully into Middle-aged Musings Monday. Well, I’m still middle-aged, but I don’t have any musings. Instead I have a bad case of “I Can’t Write About THAT!” It is paralyzing.

Ah, but perhaps I could go on for a paragraph or two about the feeling that one “can’t” write about something.

Some writers feel you should be able to write about anything at any time. We won’t deal with those annoying overachievers (and they are mostly “do as I say, not as I do” anyways). However, there is also the school of thought that the things you find scary to write about are the very things you ought to be writing about. That is where your passion and your energies lie.

Perhaps it is so. Perhaps if I wrote about my innermost thoughts and feelings I would come up with something really powerful and moving. Or I might just sound like a fool. Oh wait, I do that anyways (some of you were about to say that, if you didn’t actually beat me to it)(you know who you are).

Another school of thought says you must wait until you are ready to write about some things. Ernest Hemingway deals with this school of thought in A Moveable Feast. Only I can’t remember quite how he puts it and I’ve lost my copy of the book (yes, here’s the part where I sound like a fool). Something to the effect that he can write about this other place when he is in Paris and later on he will be able to write about Paris (yes, I did sound like a fool. Damn).

I’m afraid my reasons for not wanting to write about the things I’m not writing about today are not so writerly (I’m sure that is a word, although my computer says not). I don’t want to write about the things I mentioned earlier because, well, quite frankly, I’m afraid they would be boring. Or tiresome. Or stupid.

Oh dear, I hope what I did write was not boring, tiresome or stupid. It was foolish, you say? Oh well, I guess I can live with that.

Bad Plan

I meant, I really truly MEANT to write something good while I was at work today. Instead I worked on my novel, although (full disclosure) what I wrote was not that good and does not seem likely to lead to anything better. And I talked to my husband on lunch (again, full disclosure).

Oh dear, I can hear the unkind hypothetical readers that live in my head tsk-tsking and shaking their superior fingers at me (isn’t that how you spell tsk-tsking? My computer seems to think it’s wrong). Real writers plan ahead, they are saying. Real writers come home and actually write a blog post, not string together silly words about why they did not. Real writers do not take a half hour to type the first two paragraphs because they are distracted by a Friends re-run.

In my defense, I’ve never seen this episode. I missed a lot the last season.

OK, the episode is over. Back to the hypothetical readers that haunt me. Do you suppose they have a point? Could I be a more successful blogger with a little more planning? Yet, I just heard a quote that seems apropos: If you want to make God laugh, make plans. After all, yesterday I planned to write a better blog post today.

Those hypothetical readers are now arguing that unforeseen circumstances did not keep me from fulfilling my plans. I just didn’t do what I had planned to do. Well, so it still didn’t do me any good to make plans, did it, hypothetical readers? They do not feel I have refuted their argument.

Well, I can’t sit here all night arguing on the computer with hypothetical readers. And I fear my actual readers (if any) will not feel like sitting here reading it. I’m going to go make some plans about my post for Tired Tuesday.

Post from a Melted Brain

Unofficial end of summer, my ass. We’ve had two warm, humid days, the second REALLY warm and humid. What little brain I had has melted. Luckily for me it is Lame Post Friday.

I did write some today. Not a lot. But some. I don’t think it was very good, but one can’t be brilliant 24/7 (I know, some of you are maintaining that YOU certainly can while the others are snarking that I probably can’t be brilliant 1/1. What sarcastic imaginary readers I have).

I didn’t do anything besides go to work and come home. Nothing exciting happened on either ride. And I could not make myself go for a run on this hot, humid day. My God, I am PATHETIC! I’ve got to get a grip on myself!

These things happen in the writing life. We try to write, we find we cannot think of anything to say. Some of us sensibly put the computer away and clean the house or play solitaire. Some of us press on, determined to make that blog post every day. And we all know which group I fall into.

I fear I do too many of these I Can’t Write a Post Today posts. Could it be time for me to stop trying to post every day? Maybe try for three times a week? No, I can’t do that. I’ll just try to write more better posts (YES, I mean “more better,” let it go). I’ll start tomorrow. Happy Friday, everyone.