Category: Frozen February

  • Warm Ups

    Oh sure, you read this and ask: what the heck? My imposter syndrome flares up like a torn ACL in the middle of a marathon whenever I hit publish on one of these posts.

    All sorts of people are filling blogs, podcasts, video channels, and social media feeds with unsolicited creative insights and rando advice, so much so that when I decide to do something (if nothing else) parallel to that effort it sometimes strikes me as a bit “influencer” —and not in a good way.

    I’ve been writing here routinely for a little more than a month now, tho, and I want to let anyone reading know that if motivations are worth anything at all, I think mine are leaning towards the innocent and genuine.

    I’m not trying to change your mind, or generate revenue, or glaze clout, or whatever the kids are saying these days. I’m using this writing as a warm up. I’m writing for the sake of writing, and writing metaspective gloops to throw up on a scheduled, deadlined blog is to creativity is as to doing stretches before that aforementioned marathon: not crucial, but a good idea.

    It may feel like I’m jabbering on without any solid bonafides about these topics, but I do think I have something worth saying, imposter syndrome be damned.  And a couple hundred words of jibber jabbering is just what the doctor ordered to my brain limbered up for more important writing.

    Plus, if it turns out to be something useful… it’s already been shared.

  • Healthful

    Three weeks ago I slipped on some neighbourhood icy sidewalks and wrenched a muscle in my back. It hurt for two and a half weeks and I was in enough pain that I had to temporarily suspend my fitness routine. No running. No swimming. Nothing overtly physical beside some gentle stretching and walking.

    What I never considered—until I couldn’t do it anymore—was the impact a physical injury could have on my creative life.

    Sure, I’ve been writing furiously here over that timespan of practice and effort and intention, but a lot of my posts over the last few weeks have been shrouded in an invisible fog of temporary inability to sit at a desk and write for long stretches, physical pain lifting my arms high enough to play my violin, or a blur of frustration about not being able to get out in nature for inspiration and stress relief.

    And maybe this is obvious, but I don’t think we realize how important stable health is for having a creative lifestyle until suddenly we are not healthy anymore, even temporarily. Physical, mental, emotional. All of this is vital to clear the path for making art, playing music, typing words into a keyboard.

    We can adapt, of course, but shifting to new modalities to work around longer term disabilities is the work of months or years, all respect given to those who do it successfully. Mode shifting, on the other hand, is not necessarily a quick jump to be made over a couple days or weeks because one foolishly slipped on the ice. 

  • Undistraction Technology

    I’ve been pondering distraction quite a lot this past week. 

    I spent some reward points and redeemed myself a pair of those new wireless earphones from that fruit company we all love so much. They are the flagship model, too. The stupidly expensive ones for which I never would have paid real money.

    They have me thinking about distraction and the value of being able to focus.

    There are big distractions, huge things that don’t even allow us the mind to sit down at a keyboard. And there are small distractions, the kind of thing where you are perched ready to work and the phone rings, or someone decides to have a business meeting about budget allocations at the table three feet away from where you are trying to write paranormal creative science fiction.

    It’s tough to be choosy about your workspace, even when you seem to be in full control of it.

    I have been dabbling in the effectiveness of the noise cancellation features of my new headphones even this morning as I write this. Adding some soft music over the full-on quiet mode has allowed me to focus and pull out of the distractions of what could have been a derailing working environment in a noisier-than-usual cafe I frequent to write in.

    Distraction busted.

    This is not a product endorsement. There are multiple brands and styles of noise cancelling technology, and that might not even be your small distraction du jour. But all this is to say that sometimes there is a tool to help you focus, and you don’t even realize it was a distraction until you suddenly have a bit of technology to remove it.

  • Ad Naseum

    I gave my Kid a bit of advice that might have helped her pass her high school English class. It went something like this: when you are writing an essay, first make your point, then make it again, and then loop back around and make it one more time.

    Saying the same thing different ways three times may or not may be some secret formula for high school essays, but it boosted her grades significantly when she started following it.

    That advice didn’t come from nowhere. 

    Saying things on repeat is how we emphasize their importance.

    Repeating the same idea over and over again gives it weight in the mind of the reader.

    Ideas ad naseum might be stylistically clunky, but making multiple passes with the point across the audience, bluntly or otherwise, makes sure that it sticks.

    I bring this up because I have been reading through my past posts on this site and trying to tiptoe around retreading old ground in new writing… but that is probably not a great idea.  

    Avoiding repeating the same idea has a big negative side effect: it assumes that I got it perfectly right the first time I wrote about it. It assumes I have nothing more to say to refine the idea. It assumes that everyone understood it on the first attempt.

    All that is to add, if something you read here seems familiar then maybe that’s on purpose.

  • Doing Time

    Writers block is not myth but I am starting to think it is often a symptom of a larger issue.

    I don’t think that struggling to put words on the screen is an issue of having nothing to say, I think it is more often an issue of having too much to say… and not having anything driving one to say it.

    No timeline. No urgency. No pressure. 

    There you are, just a guy in front of a keyboard waiting for inspiration to strike?

    I have found more and more over the last couple years that as I sit down to write my 500 words of fiction each weekday that one thing has been driving my production of that volume of words: writing to a deadline has helped me overcome so many instances of block. 

    Maybe it was knowing that I need to get words in while my coffee was still hot. Or perhaps it was knowing that I had somewhere else to be in a couple hours. Could be it was knowing that I wanted to go to bed at a reasonable time. But all of it also knowing that I had a quota to meet before any of those things.

    All other concerns got pushed to the side to meet the deadline. I was doing time, writing words, and breaking blocks.