Tag Archives: writing

Wrist to Relaxing

So, I had a very busy day yesterday, I was up later than I EVER stay any more, it’s Wrist to Forehead Sunday, what sort of a post do you think I’m going to do today?

A short one.

It is gloriously warm in the Mohawk Valley today. Tabby has been for two walks, one with just me, one with me and Steven. We sat out on our deck. We are relaxing.

Moreover, I have a whole weekend of Mohawk Valley adventures to write about. I am set for DAYS. So why I am I not writing about them right now? See the first paragraph. And the second. And the third. RELAXING!

Perhaps this is a poor excuse from a blog writer who indulges in Middle-aged Musings Monday, Tired on Tuesday, Wuss-out Wednesday, Non-Sequitur Thursday and Lame Post Friday (in my defense, not usually all in the same week). Oh yeah, and countless posts about Why I Can’t Write a Post Today. Will I ever stop doing that?

I must admit, probably not. For today, I will content myself with a Preview of Coming Attractions: restaurant visits, Mohawk Valley Center for the Arts, an indoor garage sale, Mohawk Antiques Market, a truly awesome musical performance, good food, and plans for more Mohawk Valley activities.

And for me, the rest of a relaxing Sunday to enjoy. I hope you are enjoying yours as much.

Thank you for playing.

Isn’t It Romantic?

Oh dear! It is happening again! I want to make my blog post NOW and I haven’t written anything yet, and I want to write it quickly.

How annoying. I had even thought of a good Friday Lame Post, complete with headline. But I didn’t write it while at work, because I was reading a romance novel.

I really want to clarify the term “romance novel.” Steven (my delightful husband) refers to them as romance novels, and I suppose at heart they are. However, they are not the soulless, stupid generic romance novels. I don’t want to mention specifics of authors or publishers, because I just don’t want the hate, but you must know what I mean. I shan’t even elaborate. But I will mention what I like: Regency Romances by Georgette Heyer, and Gothic Romances by Victoria Holt or Phyllis Whitney (and gothic has nothing to do with young people wearing all black and heavy eye-liner. Just saying).

Today was Victoria Holt. I would just like to mention that I often say I don’t read these books, I eat them. To me they are like potato chips. You start and you just can’t stop. You know they are not good FOR you, but they are JUST SO GOOD. You can’t stop. And sometimes you hate yourself in the morning.

In fact, I hate myself less for novels than I do for potato chips. Let’s face it: any reading probably does your brain some good. Junk food, not so much.

So now I am over 200 words. That makes a post, by my own self-imposed rules. I’m going to go ahead and enjoy my Friday. Hope you all have a happy weekend.

(Catchy Headline Here)

Oh dear, this is dreadful. I must leave soon to attend a charity event involving celebrity bartenders at happy hour (if I was really high speed, I would include a link about just what the event is) (and here we come to the ugly truth about me). I think it would be a good idea to make my blog post now and have done with it. I’ve done this sort of thing before with differing amounts of success (again, not high speed enough to include links).

On the brighter side, this is Non-Sequitur Thursday. All I really have to do is come up with a catchy headline and rattle on for a few paragraphs, which we all know I am well able to do. It’s the catchy headline part that is often the problem.

When I worked at a newspaper, roughly a hundred years ago, I used to see employment ads in some of the professional magazines my boss got. They were always looking for editors who could write headlines that sang. I knew mine were pretty tuneless, and I didn’t want to leave the North Country at that point anyways, so I never applied for any of them. But I always wondered about that, because, you know, most of the headlines I see are… not so singy.

At least we have something to look forward to: a kicky post about my experiences going to happy hour for a good cause. Maybe I can come up with a better headline for that one.

To Write Another Day

Goodness gracious, look at the time. I haven’t made my blog post yet, I haven’t even written it. Oh dear, whatever will I do? Sit down at the computer, I suppose, and see what I can come up with.

OK, I typed that much in and just sat here. Swell. You know, sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn’t. My philosophy is, you have to be philosophical about it (I stole that expression from Donald Westlake) (one of my favorite writers).

I don’t suppose I can still use the excuse of being tired out from my fabulous weekend. Then again, why can’t I? I’m not a young woman. Oh heck, even when I was young I was not particularly resilient. I don’t think. Of course, I don’t remember things very well any more.

I think (stand by for a middle-aged musing) that the older we get, the more ready we are to cut ourselves a break. At least I am. And why not? Why should we not treat ourselves as kindly and gently as we would treat a friend? Or do you not treat your friends kindly and gently? If not, shame on you! Be nice to your friends!

As always, I had hoped not to write yet another post about Why I Can’t Write a Post. But I remind myself, writing about not writing is still writing. I’m sure I’ll live to write another day.

Where’s H.G. Wells When You Need Him?

Today is the day. No, it’s nothing exciting. It’s more along the lines of a looming deadline. Today is the day I said I would write and type in Friday’s and Saturday’s blog posts so I wouldn’t have to worry about it.

Isn’t this nicely time warpy? If I use this (and it seems that I am), you will be reading it at least a day AFTER today. Yesterday was the day. Oh dear, where’s H.G. Wells when you need him? (Say, that might be a good title.)

Actually, it kind of plays into my hands, because this is likely to be posted on Lame Post Friday. Although with all the time warp stuff going on, it may be better suited to Non-Sequitur Thursday. I didn’t have a Non-Sequitur Thursday this week. I don’t like to use all my slacker categories in the same week (although I suppose it happens).

Actually, I’m a little surprised I did manage two “real” posts this week. I’ve had a trip to the library, two traumatic appointments and the stress of not getting everything done for my fabulous weekend. Not to mention the stress of not having lost that last ten pounds (in fact, gaining five) before seeing my beautiful sisters (I was never the pretty one) and having nothing to wear, as per usual.

Full disclosure: the appointments were only traumatic to me because I am just so susceptible to being traumatized. I don’t expect any sympathy from anybody. And not for nuthin’ but, why does nobody ever believe me when I tell them I am a delicate flower? Oh well, by the time this gets published, I hope to be on to a better place (you knew I meant the weekend, right?).

Wine a Little?

Yes, it’s Wuss-out Wednesday. Ooh, wouldn’t that be terrible if that was my whole post? No such luck for those of you who like really, really short blog posts. Not to worry though, this one will not be long.

But it will be about Why I Can’t Write a Post Today.

In short, I am demoralized. I am less demoralized than I was earlier, but not yet moralized enough to write a decent post. Waaait a minute. Moralized is not the word I want here. What I mean is I do not have sufficient morale for the required literary effort. I believe one should avoid moralizing. If it means what I think it does (did anybody just flash on The Princess Bride: you keep using that word. I don’t think it means what you think it means”?) (I may have that quote wrong; sorry, purists).

I am afraid if I go into specifics about why I feel so demoralized, I will be imparting more of my life than it is polite to share (no, it will NOT be TMI, you know I HATE that expression!). And, anyways, who wants to hear somebody whine about their woes? It is Wuss-Out Wednesday, not Whine About Your Woes Wednesday (although I’m sure that’s been done).

Here’s a Freudian slip to leave you with (one of my friend Rachel’s favorite sayings is “Your Freudian slip is showing): when I typed “Whine About Your Woes,” I first made a typo and put “Wine.” And that made me think of my upcoming wine tasting tour. My morale is improving already.

Oh, Who Wants to Get Anything Done Anyways?

I need a new approach. I spend all week not getting a lot done and thinking, “I MUST do a lot on the weekend.” Then on the weekend, I don’t get anything done. I spend most of the day Sunday REALLY not wanting to get anything done, least of all a blog post. Eventually I manage to write a Wrist to Forehead Sunday post. Then I go on to Monday and start the whole cycle again.

Then again, it is nice to have a routine.

I did not spend Saturday having Mohawk Valley adventures, as I would have liked to have done. Not many adventures offered themselves to begin with, and I got a muscle spasm, also known as a crick in my neck. I had already managed a rather nice walk with Tabby, so I didn’t feel too guilty about my dog. I took some ibuprofen and made the best of things.

Local readers may be thinking, “BUT weren’t you supposed to register for the Boilermaker?” Indeed, registration was Saturday, and the 15K race filled up in something like three hours. I was not one of the 14,000 ambitious runners. Sorry to disappoint any regular readers (if anybody was paying attention in the first place). I just couldn’t count on my back allowing me to train properly. In my defense, I have run the Boilermaker three times and I will continue to run, perhaps participating in other local runs which will make perfectly acceptable blog posts.

I probably could have written an entire post apologizing for not registering for the Boilermaker, but that might have smacked of slimy self-justification and weaselly rationalization. Well, only people who are ACTUALLY RUNNING THE BOILERMAKER THIS YEAR have any right to shake their fingers or their heads at me (you can shake your groove thing at any time).

Well, here I am over 300 words. More than respectable for a Wrist to Forehead Sunday. I must confess, I enjoyed writing this one. I hope somebody has enjoyed reading it.

Go Jump in the Lame

Here I am on Lame Post Friday and once again, I got nuthin’.

How can this be? How many posts have I written about how once I start writing, I just write more? It’s true. I write the blog post every day, and then I write the novel. And then I write more. So how come I’m not writing right now?

I know, writing about not writing is still writing. It just isn’t very interesting. It’s kind of — dare I say it? — lame.

Ah, but Lame Post Friday is for random observations and half-baked philosophy, and I believe yesterday I brought up some half-baked philosophy. A minor confession: I often declare things “half-baked philosophy suitable for Lame Post Friday” merely because I don’t feel like dealing with them on whatever day it happens to be. But when you get to Lame Post Friday and there isn’t a random observation in sight…

I think my question was something along the lines of is there a discernible reason for me to be writing this blog at all? Kind of a silly question, but consider the source (me). I don’t know if it’s half-baked philosophy after all. I write the blog because I like writing the blog. Even on days when I can’t think of a non-lame thing to say.

World’s Dumbest Obsession

I don’t really have anything except that title, which I thought of several days ago, not really intending to use it. I mean, is there any reason to do an entire post about “World’s Dumbest” on TruTV and how I can’t seem to live without it? On the other hand, someone might observe that there is little discernible reason for me to be writing this blog at all. To that person I say, questions of why run into half-baked philosophy, suitable for Lame Post Friday, not Non-Sequitur Thursday (which is today). In other words, nice try, but I’m not stopping.

Where was I? Ah yes, nowhere. I’m sitting in my living room, netbook (I think that’s what it’s called; it was given to me) on my lap, dinner in the oven and “World’s Dumbest” on TV in front of me. I’ve seen this episode before. I’ve seen most episodes before (see headline about obsession).

Tabby got a little miffed at me earlier, when I “ran” on the mini-tramp instead of taking her for a walk. I deemed it too cold out for cute little doggies. It was definitely too cold for me. I walked to a doctor’s appointment this morning from work. That was the longest ten-minute walk I have taken in a long time. On the brighter side, it is supposed to be warmer tomorrow.

Paragraph #3 was the non-sequitur of the post, in case you were wondering.

Writing AT ALL

I’m afraid Tired Tuesday is going to be a regular feature for Mohawk Valley Girl, because, quite frankly, I am. This is what I wrote during the 9 a.m. break at work today. Full disclosure: I mostly wrote it just to get my pen moving and hoped I would come up with something better to publish. But perhaps this will do.

The one thing I have a horror of is staring at a blank page. What happens is that one daydreams one’s time away and where does that get one? I suppose there is something to be said for daydreaming, but most daydreamers are too busy daydreaming to say it (ooh, I just flashed on the Monkees’ “Daydream Believer.” Love those Monkees).

I’m having problems with the blog as well as the novel. I have a few things to write about for the blog, but I just can’t seem to put the words on the paper. I really hate admitting that. I can hear scornful voices saying, “Just write it, you big baby.” And I’m afraid the scornful voices are me.

I read a metaphor once that seems appropriate here. You probably won’t be able to batter down the door by main force. Try another door. And return to the first one every so often and give a gentle tap. It might let you in.

Actually, I feel a little better about myself right now, because I am actually putting words on a page. If I can write at all, I can potentially write something good. Ah, and that leads me into the similarities of writing and running. When I was trying to build up my run time in the army, my goal for myself on a run was to run a little faster than I really wanted to run. Very often that pace translated to “at all.” And, lo and behold, as long as I kept running AT ALL, eventually I improved.

Will it be so with my writing? Hard to say. I guess I’ll wait and find out.

NOTE: During my lunch break I wrote two pages on my novel. I wrote another page while doing laundry after work. Maybe writing AT All helps.