Random musings on a writer's life & times, with occasional input from acquaintances
Saturday, November 02, 2002
Did Bogie go a lifetime
yearning for Bergman
after he wandered
into that Moroccan fog?
Or did they find each other
in Newark after the war,
marry, breed three kids,
divorce when he discovered
she was sleeping with her shrink?
Here's looking at you,
kid, and that Vaseline
they put on your teeth
so you could cry
at the same time.
--David Jordan (the Writerighter himself)
Thursday, October 31, 2002
Well, I've been doing this blog thing for three days, and I've already missed one. I kept trying to think of something really good to say. I couldn't, so I wrote nothing. That's one way writer's block works, you know. A guy doesn't want to write just any old trash, so he doesn't write anything at all. Sigh.
I had a short story accepted this week. It will appear next summer in Thema, a lit mag out of Louisiana. That should inspire me to crank out more words, right? Well, it did inspire me to submit words I'd already cranked out and had sitting on the back burner. I fired off three or four stories into the publishing void yesterday and today. Maybe that's a step in the right direction.
I am trying to get in tune with the wisdom of William Stafford, who wrote at least one poem every day of his adult life. Asked how he could do that, he said, " If I run into trouble, I just lower my standards."
I guess that's what this blog may be about. Lowering my standards. No offense, heh, heh.
Tuesday, October 29, 2002
As I was saying . . . ain’t this techonology a hoot? It challenges me, on account of I learned to write in kindergarten, way back in the days of paper and pencil. Remember those big ol’ kindergarten pencils thick as your wrist? Rest one on your shoulder while you write. And the paper had wood chunks the size of a thumbnail. Ah, yes. I remember it well. I was outraged when January arrived and they changed the year on me, because I’d just mastered writing the year I’d been working on since September.
I am a writer by trade now, and that is the point of this site, more or less. I hope to use it to prime the pump for stories, poems, novels, eventual winning of the Nobel Prize (me and Haldor Laxness -- yes!). I intend to use it to fight writers’s block, a malady from which I suffer more often than any human being should. Some sage (I forget who) once said: “The worst thing you ever wrote is better than the best thing you never wrote.” Maybe that’s what I should have called this site -- The Worst Thing. Ha!
Hello? Hello? (Tap, tap, tap.) Is this thing working?
I know it's not a microphone, but . . . I feel like this blog deal is in the same ballpark. I just spent ten minutes writing a witty and incisive intro to this new site and then had it disappear when I tried to post it.
So now I will try again.