all of these writers posting word counts. 2,433 in a day. 1,215
in an hour. 50,000 in a month. good for them. seriously. i mean it. it’s fucking impressive. i can possibly get a couple of hundred out of me on a good day. any of you word burners got any advice for me? am i simply being too persnickety about what I’m trying to say? if i allow the crap to flow from my head to my fingers and stain the keyboard, it’ll certainly increase my numbers. my problem is letting go of phrases before they look and sound at least pretty damn close to correct. i white knuckle every syllable consonant vowel quotation mark and period. by no means is this to say that faster equals lesser quality. Mozart, Pollack, Picasso and King are but a small handful of masters known to have worked with lightning speed and created some of the more indelible art in history. i am sincerely in awe of those that can create more rapidly than myself. as a former jazz musician, you’d think I could rely on my improvisational tools and my intuition as a guide. the difference is while playing improvised music, the moment comes and then it’s gone. the only time it ever returns is if the music is recorded. even in that circumstance, much of the feeling and spontaneity is stripped away, leaving black and white carbon copied playbacks paling in comparison to the vibrant three dimensional presence of the moment itself. writing leaves every nuance bare. stark naked on the page. vulnerable and permanent with every keystroke. the moment letters are pressed into the keyboard, my second guessing begins. is this the best way to say that? would he really feel this about her? does the story need to go in this direction? getting out of my own way to allow the ideas to spill out is my most difficult challenge. finding an opening, a chink or two in my armor to wedge my way out of. at this point in writing, i’ve already gone back over the preceding paragraphs and made changes three times. part of me knows that i should let it all come out, put every idea down on “paper” and then review everything after it’s a complete piece. nope. can’t do it. the oppressive forces of revisionism dominate my thoughts and control my fingers as they hunt and peck. i interrupt my own flow pulling back on the record, scratching the music. only not in that good DJ Shadow way. now I have deadlines. stories that need to be written, edited, revised and completed within specified time frames. it’s almost noon now. i gave the neighbor’s dog his medicine. dishes are washed, garbage thrown out, recycling done, showered, teeth brushed, breakfast eaten, phone calls, emails, facebook, twitters, music chosen, didn’t like it so another choice made…now i’m here sitting at my computer terrified that I don’t have the capacity to accomplish anything worthwhile. so I choose to write this blog instead of work on any of the umpteen projects I need to bite chunks out of asap. did I mention that I just went back to review the paragraph above? just now I did. yup. can’t even get out of my when trying to tell you all that i have a problem of getting out of my own way. too cool for school y’all. that’s me. my wife reminded me of a phrase my dad used to say all the time, "Perfect is the enemy of Done." wish me luck! -a The hometown Veterans Day Parade passed directly in front of my house today. I stood on the porch waving to our honored veterans taking their pictures feeling a deep sense of gratitude and pride. The Boy and Girl Scouts marched out of step smiling and proudly waving American Flags. Our local pee wee football team wore their jerseys while the miniature cheerleading squad shook pom poms and chanted "Go Team Go!" right behind them. A long chain of colorful. feshly washed fire trucks and ambulances came next with all of the volunteer firemen happily throwing candy to kids lining the side of the road. Finally, a pair of prancing horses sauntered gleefully by, riders clicking their tongues ordering commands familiar only to their partners. I watched the magnificent animal's muscles twitch at the hip and shoulder with a power stored inside that could and has changed the world. At the last moment I smiled at my son and sadly recognized the parade was at an end. I turned for one last glance as the marching band drum cadence faded away into the village when the horse lifted it's long tail and took a crap on the street right in front of my porch. starting today, the squirrelpocalypse begins. prostrate yourselves before our new overlords and pray they have mercy upon us all. (or at least me)
it's Halloween!
that means i'm announcing the winners of my "the Key to everything Hooray for Halloween Contest! You're gonna love these stories. they gave me goosebumps and the heebie jeebies! perfect timing for the best holiday of the year! click on the link below to check them out... Hey guys! Goodreads is asking everyone to pick their choice for Book of the Year. You can use the write in space and vote for the Key to everything in the Horror category. Please vote and tell your friends to!
C'mon...give the squirrels a chance! -a http://www.goodreads.com/choiceawards/best-horror-books-2012#73801-Best-Horror She worked as the stage manager for the local community theater production of “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof”. I didn’t bother finding a seat. I knew the acting would suck worse than the characters I imagined in my head while I read it the other night. Besides, when I asked her if the show was any good, she shrugged her shoulders and sighed. Not much of a raving review in my book.
Standing at the top of the ramp behind the theater for a couple of minutes, I waited for intermission. The view down the hillside over the fence behind me caught my attention, so I lit a smoke and looked out at the lights of the valley. I took in a deep drag from the Camel 100. Blowing it out, I whispered to myself. If she doesn’t touch me on the shoulder, it’s over. She’s going to break up with me. Of course I hoped I was wrong. I heard the crowd coming out of the theater to stretch their legs and backs before the second act. The flicking of lighters, clomping of hard soled shoes on concrete and the occasional aluminum can connecting with the sides of the garbage can before settling on top of the rest of the trash. I felt, more than heard her slowly coming up the ramp behind me. I didn’t turn. She leaned on the wooden fence more than an arms length to my left. She didn’t touch my shoulder. I don’t think we should see each other any more. Hm. Such a profound response. The first girl I ever dated, my first relationship ending and I couldn’t even muster a vowel. I’m sorry. Okay. At least I put in two syllables that time. You gonna come see the rest of the show? It’s…pretty good. No. Well, I should go back. Yeah. See you later? Bye. I remember driving home listening to an old Asia cassette. Heater blasting with the windows rolled down. I sang every song at the top of my lungs. On the freeway nobody could hear me anyway. It didn’t matter. I knocked on my neighbor’s door to see if he had any beer. No beer. But I got tequila. Perfect. I’ll spot you back. You okay? Fine. Need some drunk time. Come on in man. We’ll drink together. Need to be alone. Cool? Sure man. No prob. He gave me the bottle. I left the lights off. My dorm room window opened to the parking lot across the walkway and the lights out there were enough if the blinds were open a little. Music bled through the walls from a party down the hall so I didn’t need my stereo. I didn’t care that they liked hip-hop. My ears shut everything out for me along with the alcohol. The next morning I drove to my folk’s house. Dad moved the scooper back and forth along the surface of the pool cleaning out leaves and dead bugs. I waved. He nodded and smiled. How you don’ tiger? Been better. He looked me over. That I can see. What’s up? She broke up with me last night. He lifted a scoop full of soggy junk from the water and dumped it in the bushes. Sorry to hear that. She say why? I shook my head. Well, you’re better off without that one anyway. Awful cliché of you dad. Yeah. It’s a cliché situation though. What’d you expect? Something more philosophical I guess. He dropped the scooper in the side yard. His head angled to the side and he raised his hands palm up to the sky. Sorry pal. The hug made me feel a little better. I slept in my old room that night. After mom and dad went to bed I swiped a bottle of really old Manishevitz from the bar. They weren’t very big drinkers, so there wasn’t much else to chose from other than flat champagne and half finished wine from ten years ago. She called around midnight. I don’t know how she knew where I was. The slight buzz I had going made the conversation more interesting. Hi. Hi. How are you? Wonderful. How’s by you? I hate it when you’re sarcastic. What do you want me to say? I don’t know. Then I’m just friggin’ wonderful. Apparently you’re not my girlfriend anymore so I don’t really need to worry if you don’t like my attitude. Silence. Well? What? You called me. What do you want? I…I’m back with Ronnie. And? And what? And I should care because? Why are you making this so difficult? Why are you calling me in the middle of the night to tell me you got back together with your ex boyfriend who treats you like shit? Are you checking to see if I’m jealous? Do you want me to tell you that it’s okay and you’re not being a complete and total bitch right now? That’s not fair. Fair? Shut the fuck up. You don’t get to complain about fair right now. You broke up with me remember? You ditched me so you could go back to the douchebag who hits you and cheats on you and makes you feel like scum. You’ve probably been fucking him for a while behind my back anyway right? I don’t give a shit. Fuck you. Silence. Do you expect me to feel bad now? No. Good. I’m sorry. Fuck you. I hung up. I wish I could say that it felt good telling her off. Getting it all off my chest. It didn’t. The thought of his hands on her broke my heart. I’d never felt that way about someone before her. I don’t remember breathing for the next few weeks. The pit in my stomach distracted me through all of my classes. My grades slipped. I missed rehearsals and almost got fired from a few gigs. I went to parties. Friends took me out trying to hook me up with girls they knew through other friends. I tried. Flirting became work. I watched people dancing or making out on couches at house parties. I leaned against the wall nursing my beers watching the images of the two of them fucking in my head. There were a few random hook ups. Sorority girls or liberal arts majors with a few too many jell-o shooters in their button pierced bellies. I probably called them by the wrong names. Which was more embarrassing for me than them. Slowly, things got better. My new routines fell into step and I lost myself in the music of life moving forward. I went on some real dates. Some second dates. One third that should’ve ended at the second. Then I stopped and worked on being alone for a while. I hated it. Then it wasn’t too bad. When I didn’t notice it anymore I fell in love. That’s the best part. |
mesomething interesting about me goes right...here Archives
March 2015
Categories
All
|