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Piece by Alberto Cerriteno.
I'm returning with the image
of the day feel to my blog. |
With much
scrapping through the coffin’s wooden lid and elbowing through dirt, the blog
has arisen from the yonder to feast on the righteous flesh of those who have
succeeded it. Fear its indiscriminate trolling, ill mannered finger pointing
and infection-sprouting referral links that will spell your doom.
Long story
short, I have graduated from university.
Achievement
unlocked: Bachelor in International Economics.
Finally, a
writer with the knowledge and understanding of spending habits OR you know, the
harbinger of our world economy’s end; whichever comes first I say.
On to the good
stuff, eh? It’s been precisely one month, twenty-two days, five hours and forty
minutes since my last post (I’m writing this on a Saturday, so it will probably
be longer by the time you see it, but I’m not a stickler for numbers).
Thankfully, this period does not apply to my sobriety.
During my
absence, my blog’s reached 30,000 hits according StatCounter. My gratitude to
all image searches and the people, who typed in “rule 34 Justice League”,
“naughty time DC” or my favorite “sexy Baba Yaga”. Nothing lights my heart
brighter than a quest for a serviceable geriatric of the occult variety. Given
the less savory searches, I think I may have discovered a potent niche within visual
pornography.
Although I have
been boldly going where no writer desires to half-step in (reality) and my ten
tireless digits have slaved over the keyboard, I have been writing non-fiction,
rather than what I really wanted to write. Priorities demanded I secure a juicy
diploma and a steady income, so I don’t feel as if I have betrayed my purpose
as a writer. If someone preaches that you have to write no matter what, then
you should shoot said person in the face, because if writing causes unnecessary
pain (after all the expression goes ‘suffering for’ and not ‘from’ your art),
what’s the point in doing it.
Regrets aside, I
have learned a few things about not writing, which I think no one mentions as
valid lessons for writers. Sometimes you have to not write and tackle other
obstacles, but the moment you return to your writing projects, you will come
head to head with several issues. I believe that most writers should prepare
psychologically for these challenges.
You
Become the White Rabbit.
Everyone knows
the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland, the perpetually out-of-time tiny fluff
ball of fucker in a petticoat. You become him. I became him (minus the
petticoat) and I still haven’t repositioned my posterior with the intent to
create. By now I should have finished with detailed prep-work for a novel
series in the works for the last two years concept-wise.
Yes, prep-work
for some doesn’t qualify to prance around with a status ‘full-fledged writing’
(though I protest the second-class citizenship some writers attribute to
prep-work). Yet, for all intents and purposes, prep-work is writing.
What in the
seven hells happened?
My
space-time-continuum healed itself, which is a very fancy phrasing to explain slapping
a band aid on my schedule, where the writing used to be and allow for my
routine to change. I have unlearned the lessons about discipline. I have
forgotten the sacrifices, their importance and I hop around much like the White
Rabbit, constantly out of time. Perhaps Lewis Carroll could have given the
bunny an organizer, but either way, be prepared to fight for your right to
write all over again.
You
Have Drunk from the Waters of Lethe.
In Greek
mythology, the waters from the river Lethe caused loss of memory. Now
substitute drinking the waters from a hell river with watching television as a
favorite pastime and you’ve got yourself a writer in abstinence.
During the
months in preparations for exams, I had long periods of ADD (I’m only tentatively
ascribing the condition to myself), where I couldn’t sit down to write.
Naturally, my brain did its best to hide all writing tools (as if it prepared
me for a treasure hunt) and erase their user instructions. I’m struggling with
this mildly humorous, mostly self-serving post.
Sentence variation,
masculine verbs and active voice? What were they? Coming back from a long spell
of not writing will most likely mean that you will have to teach yourself your
style from the ground up. Unless you are exceptional, then I hate you.
Your
Mind Is a Sleeping Beauty.
Wait, what?
Yes, your mind,
though in all honestly it’s just the part in charge of writing, which has
slipped in a night gown, under the covers and has forgotten to set its alarm
clock. Cue the handsome love interest.
Not only did I
forget how to write, I forgot how to think as a storyteller. Don’t gasp. I’m
still a storyteller, just a pale clone. It happens, when you don’t practice.
Writing is not riding a bike; you don’t mount the keyboard and start from a
saved checkpoint. Hearing the story, spinning the story, shaping the story into
a fresher take on whatever plot you are rehashing from the mono-myth takes more
time than you have grown used to.
I remember a
writing exercise on the Internet, whose objective was to write ten story ideas
in one go without a break. Nothing simpler than writing the core idea, the
story’s backbone. Ten backbones. Pretty easy, right?
The first two or
maybe three pose no challenge. However, they are the most obvious ones, the
ones your imagination has seen done elsewhere and cached for a quick use later
on. To access your mind’s full capabilities as a storyteller, you have to dig
deeper, which is something I’ve to repeat once again.
My personal
lesson with not writing boils down to ‘one step forward, two steps back’. I
have not fallen beyond salvation, but I’ll have to scrape the rust off my
tools.
What are your
stories from times, where you had periods of not writing?
