Some tips, maybe.

So I've been building out my social media empire, and included in that is my Google+, which some people do actually use. Imagine that!

Anyway, today I encountered a list of tips to get writing going, i.e., get motivated, and I figured it was worth including here, regardless of how trite they may seem in the long run. Never hurts to reflect on some tips and how I might incorporate them, yeah?

Location is a big suggestion, not just because (based on some comments) it sounds like it has a significant effect, but also because I've not idea how I'd really incorporate it. My life doesn't give me a lot of location-changing options. I work and I go home, and I struggle to find/make time for even my chores, nevermind going out to write. Hm.

That being said, it could include just being at work, maybe? It is familiar, yeah, but it's also different from home. I can also change locations when at work--go down to the little "cafe" downstairs and write on my phone or some such.

There's also the Panera down the street. I could go on weekends for an hour or two and do as much as I can. Def a location change.

There's also time; this blogger suggests making time whenever possible, even just 10 minutes at a time, to squeeze in some writing. That's perhaps doable for me. If I actually took my hour lunches, I could spend 10 minutes eating, 20 minutes journaling, and 30 minutes writing. That'd be something.

What's also interesting about these tips is how against habit they are. I've heard other writers heartily endorse "writing like it's your job;" setting a specific place, span of time, and time of day to instill a writerly mindset. "This is writing time," kind of thing.

I'm not exactly surprised to hear a differing point of view, but it is a bit confusing. What do I do? Make habits or break them? Hm. I suppose different things work for different writers, which I guess also isn't too surprising.

Jabberfucky.

Well, that's a rude title, really. It's not exactly about fucking per se. But I wrote a poem a couple of weeks ago and figured I'd post it. Note my attempts at my favorite meter, catalectic trochaic tetrameter.

Here's the original--more or less as I threw it at my phone:

One two, one two, and through and through
And through the night went we;
Passion met with passion felt,
And through the night went we.
Months we went with calm words shared
--But uncertain of intent.
At last! At last! Silence broke,
And the matter was announced.
(Embracing now, fingers laced,
Warp and woof entwined as one,
Bodies pressed and hard need known.)
We let it out, let feeling free,
And so through the night went we.

I wanted to preface it, if I had posted it, with "Sorry, Petrarch; sorry, Lewis Carroll; hello, Whitman." The latter two for the references to each of them, the first because I miscounted the number of lines and thought this was sonnet length.

Struck by that, and realizing it wasn't quite long enough, I decided to try rewriting it as a proper sonnet. I added a line I still hate ("Eyes both locked, sublimest depth"), and reorganized others to effect something like a rhyme scheme (a change toward rhyming is really only evident in the second quatrain, with it's ABBA). Don't love it, don't hate it, but here's the start of that attempt at revision:

One two, one two, through and through
Through and through the night went we;
Passion met with passion felt,
And through the night went we.
Months went we with calm words shared
--Though uncertain of intent.
At last! At last! Silence bent:
Bald/our desires were declared.
(Embracing now, fingers laced,
Eyes both locked, sublimest depth;
Warp and woof entwined as one,
Bodies pressed and hard need known.)
We let it out, let feeling free,
So through the night go we.

I may return to this and revise it, either into a sonnet or not, at some later time, but figured I'd post what I had for now.

Confidence.

I was reading Ray Bradbury's introduction to that collection of 100 of his stories, and he said something very interesting about storywriting: "Jump off the cliff and build your wings on the way down."

This bold approach is so different from how I currently approach storywriting. I'm so tentative, it feels; so self-conscious. I don't have confidence that I know how or will be able to build my own wings, and that's definitely held me back--both in the past and in present ventures. And not just with storywriting, or even poetrywriting; but in life as well. But that's perhaps an observation best reserved for my other blog...

I do want to be a writer; the urge and, if I can be so brazen, the talent are there. I just lack confidence in my abilities, and I'm not entirely sure--other than by brute force and success--how I'll find it.

But I need to if I'm going to live that dream of being a writer, a real writer, and not shy away from it forever, never finding fulfilment in that not insignificant domain of my existence.

I also need, of course, to make more time for my writing (and my blogging...). But, then, time management has never come easily to me. I'd like to, and have even perhaps begun to, believe I'm making progress there. It's coming slowly, maybe, so it's hard to see at times. But I have made time for "Ponder," or whatever I'm calling it, if haltingly and in large leaps.

Although Bradbury seems to dismiss scheduling writing time, that seems to be what most writers suggest and is certainly worth trying. But when? Hm hm.

Ponder, or so it's called.

So I've been working on a short story, and it's going a bit roughly. For now I'm calling it "Ponder," short for "transponder" as one such thing is indirectly the guiding force of the action. Although, now that I think about it, I might be thinking of the wrong word. Well, joy.

Meanwhile, it's sci-fi, which seems to be what I'm drawn to these days (some three of five stories I'd like to write are all sci-fi). It's also a bit of an exercise in nihilism, and I love that about it. How dark and hopeless can I make this?

I like the main character, Kimberly, even if I haven't fleshed her out completely. She'll be narrating things (more) as soon as I get things on track. More on that later. I love/hate the other main character, Oscar, who's basically a cynical philosopher-jerk. Can't say I'm too upset about that per se, but he feels almost too easy to write at times, and I'm not sure where I'm going with him. He feels prop-ish, at times.

The biggest problem I have is it's all dialogue so far. I've veered perhaps too far into "show don't tell," and "shown" everything rather than narrate any of it. Not in itself bad, I guess, but I'm not sure what to do with that. Is this normal for the writing process of a short story? The dialogue just keeps flowing out of me, and I don't know how to break it up without feeling like I'm breaking it.

Oh, right; worth mentioning that this is basically my first real attempt at writing a short story. At least, I think it is. It sure feels it--raw and unguided. Adrift. Lost. Unsure.

I feel compelled to work on it, sort of, all the same, though. I'm not sure where to go, so I'm doing my best, but at times I feel defeated or too uncertain before I even start. I know I should just push on, see what comes out, and work with what I have once I have it, but...it's difficult.

Oh well, more to come.