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Category Archives: Writing

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NaNoWriMo: Day 7

08 Friday Nov 2013

Posted by André J. Powell in Class Room, NaNoWriMo, Writing

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DesireDriveDisciplineDedication     Freedom!
     I can’t praise this little program enough. It is truly a critical piece of software indispensable to my writing-kit. I am sorely tempted by the Internet each and every time I sit down to the computer. I call it “Alice’s Rabbit-hole”. Its allure is not blatant like Ulysses’ sirens; it’s more subtle yet no less deep or insidious. For example: I’ll want to check my email, “…really quick…”. An email from a favored merchant I subscribe to will send me off to check my account, “…just for a moment…”. Then cruise the sale “…for a second…”. The next thing I know, its been a half an hour or more and I’ve been to five or six websites in oblivious succession.
     Even going to the NaNoWriMo website is dangerous. I’ll check my NaNomail, send a “…fast…” missive, check the regional forums, click on the donation tab to contemplate how much I might be able to contribute, watch a NaNoVideo. There goes another 20 minutes.
     I suspect the story is a common one.
     If I can maintain enough discipline however, to open Freedom! and click on the “OK” button, I’m golden; the Internet’s delights are silenced for a pre-set hour…or two…or three…or whatever I’ve set it up for. At the end of the hour, it’s reward time…go cruise—or more likely, shut the computer off and get ready for work.

     I spoke to my sophomore honors classes about what it takes to be an honors student or to get anything of quality, anything worth having, done. It takes Dedication, but that “dedication” is made up of, “…the three Ds…”. The first D is Desire. Do you really want it? Not as one might desire a glass of water or a new pair of shoes, but like “Wow! He/She/It’s hot. I’d like to get to know them!” desire.
     The second angle of the triangle is Drive. Do you have the wherewithal to get up off your butt and physically go for it? We’re not just talking about signing up for the class here, we’re talking about actually going to class and participating, approaching Mr. or Ms. “Might-Be-The-One” and introducing yourself.
     These two Ds are founded, however, on the most important part of the triangle-of-dedication: Discipline. Do you have the discipline to work at it not just for the day or the week or as long as you are inspired to, but for as long as it takes? When drive is at its lowest and desire is minimal, do you still have it in you to get the job done? Do you sit down, butt-in-chair, and pound out those words, not because you feel like it, or because you’re inspired—because you must. You might be sick, pissed off and tired, but do you do it anyway. This is why, of all the Ds, this last one is so critical and is the foundation upon which the others stand. If you don’t have it, if you don’t develop it, your success—that “A” or that manuscript—will always be ephemeral and a hit-or-miss proposition.
     I need to take my own advice. I know I desire to be a published author. I know I have the drive and wherewithal to do it, but do I have the discipline? Do I have it in me to rise at 04:00 each work day, hit the Freedom! button and for 60 minutes or more, sit and write—good stuff, bad stuff, inspired stuff or drivel notwithstanding—and get that manuscript done? I don’t know.

     Mission time-count for the morning accomplished.

NaNoWriMo: Day 6

07 Thursday Nov 2013

Posted by André J. Powell in NaNoWriMo, Writing

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Moving-in Blues     Yesterday I did not make the mark, but I did write and I count that as a forward momentum. Meetings at school went late (whoever thinks that teaching is an 8:00 to 15:00 gig is not a real teacher), and then with the commute, shopping, dinner, moving-in chores and mom calling to tell us she is being scheduled for gallstone surgery (yeah, the hits keep coming, but that’s the way it is), I just didn’t have a lot of time.
     On the positive side of things, I got my bedroom squared away enough to sleep in it last night and I slept much better. My last bed frame squeaked and groaned like some sort of wounded animal, but this present frame, though not new, made no noise whatsoever. Wow. What a difference. I hadn’t realized how much my former “vocal” frame prevented me from falling into a more satisfying and worthy sleep.
     The new place has two stories. Callista cannot navigate the stairs with her three legs, so up until last night I’d been sleeping in a hide-a-bed in the living room both to keep her company while she settles in to the new place and because my room wasn’t yet ready for habitation. Well, last night was the night and I got better sleep than I have for a while. Unfortunately, though I set my alarm, I didn’t turn it on and woke up at 5:00 instead of 4:00 and thereby losing 3/5ths of my writing time, but with all the stress of moving and Bella running for it, I surely needed it. I suspect what I really need is about a week’s worth more! Did I say I’m looking forward to the Veteran’s day three-day weekend?
     Thus, I have but a few minutes to pen this and a few words on my NaNo manuscript. Still, I am hopeful and confident of reaching the goal. I just have to catch up. I’ve got my sights set on the Thanksgiving holidays as a catch all. We’ve got a whole week off and if I’m still behind by that time, I hope to use it to balance the scales. My administrator hinted last night, however, that he might want to use a day or more of that week for working on the report for the Western Association of Schools and Colleges (WASC) re-visit in the Spring. As a part of the Leadership Committee, I’m obligated to be there. Still, and after all the shit this month has dealt out, I remain fixed on that 50k.
     Note to self: remember to pick up writing fuel (coffee) on the way home tonight. I sucks finding out there’s only enough left for a single cup—a cup I gallantly brewed for my wife, I might add.

NaNoWriMo: Day 5

06 Wednesday Nov 2013

Posted by André J. Powell in Family, NaNoWriMo, Writing

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Papapavalos Mediterranean Stuffed Chicken     In the end, it was Craigslist that did it. Yesterday a big hearted lady of the highest caliber, a Dog-Lady, responded to my post: “I have your dog…”. Music, simply music.
     As soon as I saw the email, I phoned my wife from work and within half an hour Bella, the sneaky bitch, was home no worse for wear. Marirose relates that the dog seemed to take it all in stride with a “Hi, mom; where ya been?” sort of attitude. Callista, on the other hand, was thrilled to see her “sister” safely home and greeted the wayward canine-escape-artist with joyous sprints and jumps—no mean feat for a 100+ lbs three legged dog.
     After arriving home and spending some time with the little minx, my wife and I went to celebratory de-stress dinner. On the way home, we removed the lamp-post flyers I’d put up and discussed how lucky we were to recover our mutt.
     She had ranged about a mile from the house. Her savior related to my wife that Bella came to her attention barking at her front door.
     “I’m not sure why she came here, but she certainly came to the right place,” she told my wife. “…not sure why,” indeed!
     “…fools and little children” it is said. I think dogs can be safely added to that list. At least this one.
     Sigh.

     NaNoWriMo
     Let’s see how much damage I can do today with two meetings and a full slate of classes to teach on the schedule. I’m pretty deep in the pack, but with a little dedication and a few very good writing sessions cranked out over the up-and-coming three-day weekend and the following Thanksgiving-Day holiday week after next, I think I can at least get my nose even with the rest of the horde. We’ll see.

NaNoWriMo: Days 1 and 2

02 Saturday Nov 2013

Posted by André J. Powell in NaNoWriMo, Uncategorized, Writing

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The Kraters of Ivory and Jet II     This is where a lot of bloggers apologize for having been gone for so long from their boards. I’m not going to do that as I’m reasonably assured no one has been pinning away due to a lack of my oh, so witty repartee!
     “When is André going to post more of those deep insights that make my day? I wonder what his latest frustration is–he always makes my life seem a bit better when he posts about the things that bother him…I don’t feel so alone.”
     I mean, honestly, at this stage in my writing adventure, my blog is little more than a message-in-a-bottle meant to help me feel (as illusionary as that might be) that I’m part of a larger community of unpublished writers rather than due to any delusions concerning an eager audience. Somehow, the act of posting, trusting to the Fates and tossing it out into the cyberspace sea, is a comforting one. The illusion is enough and at this stage, I ask no more of it.
     NaNoWriMo 1
     Due to the madness that is part and parcel of a high school English teacher’s typical Friday, as well as the fact that I have no inspiring story calling out to me, I did not make my word count goal for the day. I’m not too surprised, nor am I unduly worried. Today is a Saturday. My wife is at work and I and the dogs have nearly all morning to write. Still, write what? is the question.
     As November approached, I reflected on what I’d done in the past. I had successfully completed four WriMos, two of which were NaNoWriMos. I had proven several times over then that I could both reach 50k and sustain a story idea that could use at least that many words. What had yet to be accomplished was a fully finished first draft, something I could proceed to revise and refine. Thus, I decided this year’s NaNoWriMo strategy needed to be a bit different. I would not start a new manuscript and write another 50k that would in all likelihood end up simply being another unfinished story. What I needed to do was rebel and make this NaNoWriMo experience a bit more utilitarian.
     I decided I had several options.
     A.) I could write 60 30-word Holly Lyle “Sentences”. Though it would most definitely not result in 50k, it could subject my right-brain muse to just the right exercise to identify a story idea about which I was passionate.
     B.) I could review my unfinished manuscripts and write up 30 in depth character profiles, each about 1,500+ words long. This was a win-win idea considering that if I did, I would easily have 50k, but also, knowing my twisted mind as I do, it most likely would lead to jump-starting an old story or conjuring up a new one long before the 30th profile was reached.
     C.) I could do 50k of world-building. Presently I have multiple on-going projects. I could easily crank out the required wordage and end up with something concrete for both my gaming and writing worlds.
     I ultimately decided on a fourth option: D.) I will take the Brandon Sanderson option with an eye toward finishing the draft and continue an existing manuscript for another 50k. Maybe not as glamorous or NaNoWriMo-script-conservative as a new story line, but preferable to an additional orphan “under-the-bed.”
     Tomorrow then, should see me beginning the 04:00-cycle and working on The Kraters of Ivory and Jet II.

We Do Not Row Because We Must…

10 Monday Jun 2013

Posted by André J. Powell in Disgusted, Storytelling, Writing

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The days here are measured. Each one that passes draws us ever closer to the end…when we will leave Far Iona—my Iona Céin. No one will know what that means but me. No one will feel the shame but me. We tried. I tried. I failed.

I work and sleep in my library almost constantly now, because it will soon be gone. The matriarch says that I should be thankful that for at least a time, I had it. The pages call me. The maps beckon. The owls watch from dilating pools of jet wherein I dream nightmares. How can I not? No one wishes me good-night, no one tucks the covers in around my neck and kisses me “sweet dreams” or better yet, “no dreams” at all.

Thus, I doze in the captain’s chair rocking and listen to the waves crash on the shore, to the books age and to the music of the great chime beyond the water…pretending it’s all not happening…that it is all a nightmare…that it will all somehow last, survive, continue. But time is finite and change is inevitable. In the twilight and the false dawn, in a moment of weakness I wonder if I will ever find such a place again knowing I will not.

Gone. Gone. Gone. It’s all gone.

We sailed into the mouth of the beast—against all odds we sailed. We gambled with the gods and we lost. They sleep now, draped over their oars, snoring at the benches, mouths agape in the throes of dream.

They do not yet know we are soon to leave; do not yet know I have betrayed them. Oh, but they will when we’ve cleared the ship shed and they see the stacks of cargo and I order them to retrieve and install the oar-wings then they will know this is no stretch of muscle for the sake of muscle—we are leaving.

“We shall sail the Sundancian Sea!” I had promised. And they cheered and I believed. They rowed and will keep rowing. It is their fate, I suppose, never to reach solid “home.”

And rowed right valiantly they have, to Idwelan’s Needles, through the Targun’s Gap and beyond to Far Iona. We ran our bronzed rams up on her white sands and slept under her green trees. We swam in her pools, marveled at her rainbow fishes, ate her nectarines, peaches, plumbs, pears, plucots, lemons and grapefruit, watched the trees turn white with blossoms that fell filling the courts with fragrance and snow,

And now we must leave her. Now we must give it all up. Now we must either submit to the Heen or…or what? Brave the Oanerles Sea? They will weep for it, knowing they will never arrive, never leave this ship. I will weep for it. I weep for it now. I never did build the holy shrine, never drink from the holy well.

We do not row because we must; we row because there is nothing else to do.

Where will I die? Master of a trireme…a sea lord no less! It is hard knowing I will not die on my own deck…watching the sea. I will not die in battle. Perhaps it will be in some leeches sanitarium, a place where the forgotten go to die and the living are already dead staring at walls without memory, shitting myself for uncaring people who but wait for me to give them what little gold I have in the hard currency of “getting it over with so they can go home.” Home…something I have never known. At least on Iona Céin, it would have been in a place I cared about—even if no one was present to care for me.

Oh, yes. Hell exists, my mariners. Hell is real and your oars reek of it.

A “man” thing…family is all that matters—or so I am told. And where will you host that family? I ask. Will they come visit you on your cot? Will they all cram into your death chamber when the time comes? Where will they gather when it is over and time to honor your memory? Where will they light the incense? Where will they make their offerings? Where will they stand and say, my father, my mother, they stood here?

They do not care—it’s a man thing…you see.

Kast, the deck dog cared. I remember the day she plunged into the icy sea after me and saved my life…the day I spoke to Wintar…the day he told me of Iona Céin. She should have let me drown for all his prophesies have served us. Oh, many armed wise one; oh, master of fate and destiny; read to me from your book.

Bastard.

You forgot to read me about this part.

Now it will belong to someone else who will know none of what happened here, none of the losses, none of the pain, none of the possibilities. None of what it means to want to protect or to want to be remembered as a protector, a provider, a strong rock upon which to cling. It is so hard to believe I will never hang my sword over my own hearth—from here on the stones I sleep upon will not belong to me…not belong to me…not belong to me…not belong to me…ever.

The days here are measured. Each one that passes draws us ever closer to the end.

Elizabeth Moon’s Oath of Gold

10 Wednesday Apr 2013

Posted by André J. Powell in Musing, Reading, Storytelling, Writing

≈ 1 Comment

Oath of Gold     I enjoyed Oath of Gold, the third in “The Deed of Paksenarrion” trilogy and getting to know Elizabeth Moon’s early fantasy side. It has been remarkable to watch the evolution of her writing style. She seemed to have found her stride during this the final chapter of Paks’s story and Paks truly stepped out to become round and dynamic. The dialogue felt more authentic and the predominantly human versus human conflicts extremely satisfying.
     On that note, a thought came to me as I finished the book. Was the dialogue an issue for me because Moon was still developing her skill or was it a purposeful device to support Paks growing from a young country girl naïve in the ways of world to a full grown woman tried, tested and sharpened by harsh experience? As I reflect on the trilogy as a whole, I plan to keep this thought in mind when I next read a fantasy. To answer the question here would take a second read of the trilogy and my reading list is too long for that. Another tantalizing tidbit gleaned from Moon’s website is the suggestion that trilogy was first written as a single long story, broken up “…for practical purposes…” I can only imagine this means for publications sake. Did Moon’s skill evolve more organically then rather than in stages? Or are my own observations too amateur and arm-chair in nature?
     As intended, Moon’s exploration of the military-religious mind set was thought provoking. I am always torn between wanting the authentic ring of the ever-compromising human mindset and a craving for a clear cut conflict between good and evil and a champion clear of mind and purpose. Paks seemed to reflect more of the later than the former in her perception of right and wrong, which was alright by me. Her need to come to grips with the reality of human suffering however—the feelings of those who cannot wield weapons in their own defense due to status, class, economic or training limitations—I thought was a great touch and satisfied the former.
     We (and I use the term very loosely) are so jaded against those with a singleness of vision. We fear the power it gives them and its possible abuse. Templars come immediately to mind. I wonder, however, how much of the negative reputation gained by such holy warriors was not the result of the greedy men and woman who commanded them; who, though purporting a veneer of religious intent, were truly concerned with narcissistic gain and infected with megalomania. What resulted was an order of knights fed at an infected teat and as far from the Grail model they dreamed of as one could be. Our opinion of such is further influenced by our own political leaders who have failed us time and time again…and continue to do so, unable to agree on anything, behaving in a fashion no recess-monitor would tolerate on the playground let alone the halls of congress. The scope of this musing does not allow for much more than idle thoughts, but it is a tantalizing thread.
     I still felt put off by the use of elves, dwarves, gnomes and orcs as too crutch-like, unnecessary for an enjoyable story. I think it would have been more exciting had she kept such at a minimum and relied predominantly on exotic human constructs or developed her own races and species as she did with some of the creatures Paks encountered. Again, I realize this was the rage at the time of publication—witness the Dragonlance saga. I also realize it is most probably my own tastes which are involved here—thousands of RPG inspired novel readers can’t all be wrong.
      So…what has this modern master taught me or reminded me of that I should keep in mind?
     I love a good bildungsroman. I love reading about characters going through a process of both structured growth as well as growth and evolvement that is experience based. Paks satisfies both categories as she undergoes her military training in the first book; her spiritual training in the second and the harrowing ordeals of the world’s training ground in the third. Over and over again, I am reminded of Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey. I note that this predilection is on my HTTS’ “Sweet Spot Map” as one of the things I’m drawn to.
     In relation to the above, it was satisfying to read as Paks learned from her experiences and to place them as filters over the past. The changing POV and her notice of it lent another layer of authenticity to her characterization.
     Paying attention to dialogue is important. Though the honeymoon phase between reader and author is a real as it is brief, authentic dialogue, reflective of a character’s experience and place, is important from the start. I’ll need to look into this very carefully and be wary of it.
     A book that provokes thinking is always good. I would rather write one like that than one wherein my reader smiles, has a good read and promptly forgets they ever read it.

Elizabeth Moon’s Divided Allegiance

29 Friday Mar 2013

Posted by André J. Powell in Reading, Review, Writing

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Tags

Elizabeth Moon, Fantasy, Reading

Divided Allegiance (The Deed of Paksenarrion, #2)Divided Allegiance by Elizabeth Moon
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I enjoyed this volume of Paksennarion’s story and despite some misgivings have become invested enough in the character to pursue her tale in Oath of Gold. Moon’s style matured much between January ’88’s The Sheepfarmer’s Daughter and this volume published in October of ’88. I noticed it most in the superior dialogue of Divided Allegiance. While it still had a long way to go before it would sound as good as it will in her later Esmay and Heris novels, it seemed to me a marked improvement over her first novel.

With the perspective of years, I found the abundance of DnD and Tolkien inspired tropes a bit tedious. At the time however, this was the rage and much of the book’s events could easily have been inspired by a table-top pen-and-paper RPG campaign. Acrya has many similarities with Lolith; the evil iynisin are but drow once removed, and her tombs and ruins are filled with ‘dungeon crawl’ fodder: demon possessed elves, traps, minions and magic. I usually go out of my way to avoid stories that rely heavily on Orcs, Elves and Dwarves but by the time they showed up in force, I was too deep into the storytelling to pull out. And even though this is a testament to her good characterization and plot, I do wish she could have woven a fantasy tale without the need for such. It’s what I enjoyed most about the first book.

I found myself reacting emotionally more to Pak’s clashes with other humans than I did concerning her encounters with the demi-humans. Moon’s writing seemed more authentic and considered in such situations. I wonder if this isn’t why I noticed the improvement in her dialogue. Paks in conversation with her human friends was much more convincing than when she was speaking to her demi-human companions. Indeed, I found myself more engaged and concerned about her relationship with “Socks” than I did about her encounter with the evil iynisin.

I think, there is a lesson here for my own writing.

While it is arguable that the presence of such archetypes and tropes is the very stuff of fantasy, they can come off as ineffective and redundant if handled poorly. For example, in many modern fantasies, The Sword of Shannara and Eragon comes to mind, these motifs are presented as if the author is counting on the audience to bring to the reading experience a whole set of preconceived ideas and notions about them, relying on the trope rather than on originality. This is a gamble if not handle in a more creative manner. On one hand those who love such things, those looking for a reading experience similar to, say, Tolkien, will accept it without question. On the other, the author runs the risk of alienating readers like myself who want more wonder, surprise and awe than another attempt at Tolkien. This is not because I believe Tolkien wrote the definitive version of orcs, elves and dwarves but because so many authors try to present them in Tolkienesque fashion.

I need to remember that it isn’t enough to present a wizard or a unicorn or a magic scroll to my readers and hope that they get it. Such things need to be carefully developed and fed to the audience with deliberation and forethought. For all that, Moon did a fare job of presenting her topes with budding originality and obvious care. Still, I hope she kept Pak’s encounters with them to a minimum in Oath of Gold.

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One Down…Lots To Go!

25 Monday Mar 2013

Posted by André J. Powell in Class Room, Writing

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Tags

frogs, teaching, Time, writing, Writing struggles

     I spent of yesterday doing chores about the house: lawn, dishes, laundry, etc. I also spent about five hours in a final push to “eat that frog” and finish editing a friend’s master’s thesis. This social contract has leveraged the most from my writing pursuits as it had to be done, for the most part, here at home. Any time I’ve had to spare that I did not work on it has been a guilty pleasure not only because he is a friend and I wanted to give him his money’s worth but also because he’s on a deadline to finish it and he paid me $250.00 to do it. I’m glad that, save for a few odd pages here and there, for the most part, it is done. Huzzah!
     Senior portfolios are next on the hit-list. Less a social contract and more a “…duties as assigned…” affair, it eats up a serious amount of writing energy. Each portfolio contains ten projects including three letters, a resume and a career-exploration essay which require serious evaluation—read: editing. I’ll not go into how poorly they’re written and how much time it takes to do them. Complaints get me no where. I just need to get them done and scored…which, unfortunately, means correcting their mistakes—and they are legion, in many cases failing them and returning them to their owners so they can fix them for a second round of grading wherein most pass (of course they have…I fixed all their bloody mistakes!) Whatever; the point is this week is going to be devoted to eating that frog and writing energy will be at a premium.
     In what spare time I have, I continue to hammer through my redeux of Holly Lisle’s “How to Think Sideways” Ultra course. I have done some exploring and writing in conjunction with that. It goes well. So far I find I am doing better than I did on my last attempt. I hope to keep it up and learn as much as I can. Her lessons and observations are useful and give me hope that this writing business is doable. I know however, know with the certainty of tomorrow’s sunrise, that unless I can carve out the time, ‘plant my flag’ so to speak, I will never write my books. If I don’t find the wherewithal to refuse certain family, career and social contracts AND maintain a disciplined writing routine, I’ll leave this life unfulfilled, with piles of notes and half finished manuscripts in my wake but nothing finished.
     Case in point, Prom in all it’s time-eating glory is pinking the school-horizon and from mid-April until May 11th, I will be working my tail off there too. Prom is no simple dance at my high school. It is a pageant on a Cecil B. Demille scale. Put on by the student council, it is a serious amount of work. Did I mention “…duties as assigned…” and who’s Student Council Co-advisor? Yeppers: that’d be me and those are my duties. There will be at least four post midnight work sessions in and around the 11th and very little writing will be done on the approach. Just thinking about it makes me tired.
     And, of course, I still need to prep lessons and deliver them and then clean up after them. Ah, the life of a teacher. Anyone who wants to be a writer and thinks that teaching is the way to go—all that extra time!—is fooling themselves, especially if they want to teach successfully as well as write. The sub route would have been smarter…too bad I love to teach 🙂
     Between portfolios and prom, however, is Easter Break. I don’t know about anyone else, but I hear choirs singing! I look forward to time to write and make significant inroads with HL’s lessons.
     On an amazingly happy note, one related to creativity, both a close friend (and author) and my brother started RPG sessions this weekend: a SW game and a RQ6 game and on Friday night I flew to, “…a galaxy far, far away…” and on Saturday sailed the seas of fate. A good time was had by all and a very much needed re-energizing took place.
     Ah, time waits for no man and duty calls. May the few who read this find the time and wherewithal to write and be creative. Beware you do not waste it!

Still Struggling To Reach That “Daily Grind” But…

14 Thursday Mar 2013

Posted by André J. Powell in Class Room, Writing

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Writing struggles

     It’s Thursday and I’m looking back over the days since I last posted here wondering if things have gotten better. I’ll have to admit they have. The storm has somewhat subsided: the car—the gods adore you, my brother—is repaired; the bills are paid and I have money for groceries and gasoline (not much else); the dog’s chemo treatment was successfully administered; our neighbor fixed the fence between the yards and paid for it himself (bless him!); my last few lessons have met with my expectations and I have been able to write a bit.
     I’m still struggling with a few social contracts and work demands such as the dissertation editing I’m doing for a colleague—hey, at least he’s paying me!; the demand on my time to edit and score senior portfolios before Easter Break—only 40+ more to go…counting “re-do’s…that’s over 400 documents*; and a pile of essays and assignments three feet tall with grades due by Monday at 6:00 a.m.—I know where this weekend is going.
     Where do family and friends fit in? Where ever they can.
     Still, things have gotten better. I have been able to get at my chosen time (4:00 a.m.) and after my morning meditation—something I sorely need to keep the ‘hounds at bay’—I’ve been able to do some writing. Today, it’s here. Tomorrow, on my manuscript.
     Another bright spot on the writing horizon is Holly Lisle’s reboot-upgrade of her “How To Think Sideways” course. As a legacy member, I’ve been given access to the new lessons and they look great. I plan to start over sometime this week…or next. I only got through lesson six when last year’s NaNoWriMo came up and I was distracted. I’m very thorough when studying the lessons, probably more so than most. I guess it comes from being a teacher, but my method is very time consuming for all its thoroughness. If, however, I back off a bit and follow the course timeline as presented, I can be done with it in a few months and feel I gave it a good effort. I’m excited to try. I’m hoping I can get in with a group of other writers this time and we can help each other along.
     The coffee pot just alerted me it’s time to head on out into the fray. Minds to bend and all that.

     *As an aside, the district is paying me for 25 hours of portfolio work…never mind I used up that 25 hours nearly 25 hours ago :-T and it takes nearly 75 hours to pull this portfolio business off.
     School District Voice of Authority: “Pay you for those 50 hours? Ha, surely you jest; learn to work harder, faster or move to another district. Oh? No one will take your years of experience? Too bad. Still, it is your choice…”

Too Many Minds…Too Little Else

06 Wednesday Mar 2013

Posted by André J. Powell in Observation, Writing

≈ 1 Comment

     This IS, officially, “…one of those days…” Ha! One of those “…lives…” more like it.
     Writing is so hard right now.
     Well, hell, writing is always hard…but right now in particular.
     There are just so many distractions at the moment, too many demands. Some are obligations that come with making a living, some are social contracts voluntarily accepted, some are part of the landscape of being human. That being said, I don’t think they would be as much of an issue were it not for the feeling that our household is hemorrhaging financially. Money pours out like blood from an open wound. As soon as we get one bleed under control another opens up. “When it rains, it pours,” they say: vet bills, upside down mortgages, car repairs, bank loans, computer failures, extra time-consuming work demands and the freak-outs that follow. They do not space themselves out nice and evenly but seem to come all at once.
     I think, however, I could handle it all were it not for feeling as if my wits are scattered to the four winds. I’m unable to focus. My memory feels lethargic and my thinking processes sluggish. I feel like a library that’s suffered an earthquake. All the cases are toppled, books are off the shelves, volumes scattered in a mess and I don’t know where to begin picking things up. I feel too dazed to rally.
     My creative friends are producing like never before. I’m inspired to read, write, draw, carve, create, yet I feel stuck, bogged down by the sticky mud of obligation, apprehension and fear of the future. I don’t have writer’s block, on the contrary, the ideas are lined up and call out to be auditioned. Instead, I have…well…would-be writer’s A.D.D. It’s as close a descriptor as I can come up with for this mixture of paralyzing internal fear and overwhelming external demand all yammering for an audience.
     “Too many minds!…mind sword, mind face, mind people watching, too many mind.”
     It’s hard to stay focused. I suspect this is because of a lack of a lack of discipline on my part. Stride. I must find my stride before I lose heart. Lately, however, the sense of urgency that rises from the chaos chokes me and I’m paralyzed with panic. I can’t breath…I can’t write…I flail about for a hand hold…feeling the ideas growing tired.
     I think I need some very, very good sleep, but I suspect what I really need is to radically change the paradigm, alter the construct, because it’s evident that the present one is not working.

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A wanna-be writer and sometime poet trying to live, love and learn as much as I can with the time I have left.

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