Regarding Writer’s Block

Jenga

Dusty commented about WB in my last poast. It’s true that I can’t seem to sit down and force myself to write the things I believe I “should” write, such as the next short story in my epic collection of long connected stories, or even finish one of Anna’s hot romances I’ve left in limbo. But that doesn’t mean I can’t write anything ~ in fact, I’ve been blogging a ton (have actually deleted several ridiculously verbose and pointlessly rambling poasts in the last several weeks before I hit publish), emailing a bunch, and tweeting a twitload. I have even poemed a bit. It’s just the fiction I’m not into any longer and thus have given it up.*

Fiction writing feels like regression. Maybe that’s a lazy copout, but it’s how I feel right now. Writing fiction was an escape from bad times in my life, and my life is no longer bad. I don’t need an escape into a fantasy world of make-believe characters I focus on instead of my own situation. Unlike poetry, which stimulates my love for language, wordplay, and brief, intense emotional exploration, writing fiction feels hollow and fake. (This doesn’t apply to fiction reading at all, which I still love. Or movies dur!)

Writing about real events, however ~ slightly enhanced for entertainment value ~ such as the “dating stories,” is still a lot of fun for me. I was going to write about my trip to the wilds of Los Angeles last Tuesday, the crazy Bentley who tailgated me (a freaking Bentley!), the trippy sidewalks, my adorable granddaughter (I’m a grandmother now, if you didn’t know), etc., but there wasn’t any outstandingly funny moment to regale y’all with, and I’m all about the regaling.

[Just had to delete some amusing nonsense about regal and regaling because the words aren’t related. Dictionaries are our friends! But eccentric comes from outside the circle of normal, which was the WOTD yesterday, and since I can’t sleep in this heat even with a Valium and it’s now tomorrow, that word is definitely appropriate.]

Now, at this point you may be wondering if this poast isn’t one of those ridic rambles that should go into the trash heap… no! First, this is an experiment to see if it’s easier to blog from my old Kindle, since it’s larger than my phone and has a more finger-friendly keyboard. Second, it allows open tabs to be visible at the top, like a puter, which is helpful for switching back and forth when looking stuff up while blogging. Third, it’s difficult to create links when blogging by phone (have not tried the WordPress app) ~ basically have to write them down on a piece of paper and type them in again like a cavewoman. But on my Kindle I can copy and paste like a normal person. However, there is one issue: my bitmojis! I only have access to media already uploaded to WP, no new bitmojis or photos on my phone, since this thing isn’t connected to my phone. Of course, I could save this as a draft and then reopen it on my phone, where all my pics are. But that is not exactly an efficient, streamlined operation, is it now?

I put the previously used Jenga blocks up top, meh. Other solutions were: (1) use a previous bitmoji that didn’t really go with this poast; (2) use an ugly stock WP photo of blocks; or (3) begin some complicated process of installing an app on my phone that will give my Kindle access to photos, but it is 3am and I don’t wannu.

There is a rumor going around I might be getting a Mac, which will render all this angsting obsolete, but in the meantime… the blog abides.

*One of my friends said he learned in a yoga class recently that stress damages the brain and is potentially one of the leading causes of dementia. So, this just proves I’m on the right track giving up stressful things like dating, Facebook, fiction writing, etc. If only I could give up driving, that would be AWESOME!

Oh, now I have to stick on all the tags that will allegedly attract zillions of readers to this poast. Bwahahaha!

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7 responses to “Regarding Writer’s Block

  1. Glad to see your reference to that gorgeous grandbaby of yours. She’ll inspire you in countless ways, you just wait and see. ❤️

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Eh. Grandkids. They’re nothing, trust me — you’ve read enough of my stuff about granddaughters (and grandsons, too, if you go back far enough) to understand that the sun rises and sets on them and (confusingly) the universe revolves around them, and when they look at you with that right-down-to-the-bottom-of-your-soul bedrock trust and love for you that they become the purpose and reason for your life and you become homicidally protective of them, but other than that are just these kids you happen to know. Y’know? So no biggie.

    As to fiction — no regression here. But then most of my fiction starts off with a story I lived, know, heard, or imagined based on my experience that I can’t tell anyone without dressing it up beyond recognition for public consumption, which I suspect is true for most fiction.

    “Write what you know” is not just constructive advice, it’s pretty much a core necessity. Deciding to write something of pure whole-cloth fiction is like deciding to write in Chinese. Good luck with that. The most esoteric fantasy, science fiction, Dali-esque hallucination, or imagined romantic romp may end up with nothing but the barest thread of your life in it, but it’s in there, often obscured to near-nonexistence — if not, it really IS just random words strung together. Which, now that you mention it, probably is regression…

    For me, fiction is doodling. You start with a simple thing that you know, a real thing, maybe as simple as a triangle. And you add another line. And a swirly thinger. And a series of circles — and at long last, when the Company Board Meeting finally grinds down to yet another futile end, you’ve filled an entire page (or two, if the raggedy old Company Founder takes it into his head to speak) with lacy intricacy. And buried in the middle of it somewhere, probably long since obscured to invisibility, is that triangle you know that you started with.

    (shrug) But, what do I know. If I was any good at it, I’d long since be rich. I’ll check the bank accounts tomorrow, but I’m guessing that still hasn’t happened. I almost said “yet”, but started laughing at myself and didn’t.

    Liked by 2 people

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