It’s all in the attitude

3244 fearless love endures

Oh, bother. Oh, woe. Will inspiration ever strike? It’s so ha-ard to sit here and try to write. How am I going to get my characters out of this mess? It takes so long to work it all out. I don’t want to sit at this desk and try to concentrate on all this.

“Isn’t this great?!”

What? No. Are you crazy?

“Only crazy about how much fun I’m having. It’s so great to take a little time for inspiration to strike.”

You call this fun?

“Yes! Yes! Yes! It’s so much fun to just sit and try to write. How am I going to get my characters out of this mess? I can take my time to work it all out. I just love to sit at this desk and concentrate on all this. I’m living the creative! Wheeeeeee!!!”

(Guess which attitude is more fun – and more productive.)


Gently down the stream

gently down the stream

Author’s note: The other day, after neglecting my journal for a day, I picked it up and entered a “zone” and didn’t set it back down until I had filled 16 pages. At several points I became aware that I was writing without thinking and enjoying the stream of consciousness, so I’d tuck my brain away again and keep going. Afterward, reviewing where my mind had wandered, I got the idea to share the whole 16 pages, almost exactly as they’d come out, with only one addition: the word Trope.

Why would you want to read this? Why would anyone care what I write when I’m just riding a stream of consciousness to nowhere or somewhere or wherever this goes? I don’t know. Maybe I’m the only one who finds this writing exercise interesting, but that’s OK. It would not be the first time, or the last. Continue reading “Gently down the stream”

Attic musings: Linda Perhacs rediscovered

Linda Perhacs rediscovered

During college hanging-around-the-student-radio-station days, I would often sit with headphones on and listen to the new album releases, usually from someone I never heard of but they must be good because someone recorded their album, right?

Sometimes an album would blow me so far out of the water that I had to tell everyone I knew, “Holy cow, you gotta hear this album.” If there was a turntable nearby, I would sit them down and make them listen. If you knew me then, you probably remember that about me, and often you would nod patronizingly and say, “Sure, Warren, very nice, thank you.”

But a handful of albums really sank in. One of them was Parallelograms by Linda Perhacs. I think several of my friends actually went out and bought the album after hearing it. Continue reading “Attic musings: Linda Perhacs rediscovered”

In which an unexpected judicious edit leads to conquering the fear of the wonderful

zen edit

There is something scary about discovering the miracles that abide inside us. We are “fearfully and wonderfully made,” and – having been made in the image of our Creator – we are capable of crafting fearfully-and-wonderfully-made things.

In a burst of creative madness, I wrote Chapter One of a marvelous story more than a year ago.

It was good, which scared the sh*t out of me, obviously, because I let it lay dormant for more than a year. At the time, I shared the chapter to be sure it was good, and sure enough, people whose opinions I respected said, “This is good. I would like to see what happens next.” What happened next is I let it lay.

Then the other morning, as I am wont to do, I was re-reading Ray Bradbury. Continue reading “In which an unexpected judicious edit leads to conquering the fear of the wonderful”

The one with a Tom Petty reference that celebrates books

books like universes

There are books here, stacked in piles, arranged on shelves, in every cranny and nook. (Nook and cranny are my words of the week.)

Some of the books are old friends, and I pull them out from time to time to say hello and how have you been and what’s new.

Many of them are maybe going to be friends if I ever overcome my shyness and introduce myself. They must be friends already in a way, because I know they’ll be there should I ever ask.

Some are mentors with words I ought to live by, and I bring them out when I deserve a tongue lashing.

Some are there to complete a collection, and it may have been another in the series that caught my attention, but these too serve a purpose.

Every book represents a dream, a new universe, a sharing, a gift. “Even the losers get lucky sometimes.”

What, a musical reference in a meditation about books? Why not? What sings more deeply than a book? What song is more real? What symphony so captures a soul?

Ode On The Creative Urge

ode on the creative urge

I sat down this morning, mined my journal for 10 blog posts, and scheduled them to start appearing daily Monday through Saturday mornings starting immediately. (“In which we tire etc.” was the first.)

Are they any good? Will anyone bother to read them? Oh, that is so not the point.

Creators live to create, and must create to live – “That is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”

(I posted this on Facebook Oct. 3 and then thought, “What do ya know? There’s the 11th.”)

Conquering the dontwannas

conquering the dontwannas

“I don’t wanna!”

Oh, come on, you big baby. Just sit down and do the work.

“I don’t wanna!”

Yeah, and I don’t want to sit here yelling at you. So something’s gotta give.

“I don’t wanna!”

You want to eat? You want to rest? You want to have time for your toys and your books and your records? You want to not worry about how to pay the bills?

“Well, yeah …”

OK, then. DO THE WORK! Sit your butt down and finish the to-do list. To-do to-day! That’s what it is.

“I don’t wanna!”

Oh, fer Pete’s sake.

Do it. Let’s get off our buts.

Just do it.

Seemingly seeming seemly


“It just seems.”


“It just seems. That’s all.”

“Seems like …?”

“Seems like what?”

“You said it just seems.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Seems like what?”

“What are you on about?”

“You said it just seems, and usually when people say that, they finish the sentence.”

“I did.”

“That was the whole sentence?”

“Yes, yes, it was.”

“What did you mean?”

“Does everything have to mean something? Can’t it just seem?”

“Seem like what?”

“Oh, bother! You’re such a nitty-pick.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means what you want it to mean. Leave me alone.”

“Well, this just seems –”

“And there you are!”