I'm on the clock for an article this weekend. I write for a sports magazine that's published here in Mississippi. It's due Friday.
Of course, I've had it on my plate for over a month, but...get real.
I'm starting in earnest tonight...which means staring at my interview notes, googling, doodling, writing a sentence that gets scratched out as soon as it's punctuated, the pencil never leaving the page.
Frustration. I have no idea what to write...it seems like I asked the dumbest questions, got no answers, don't know where to start...have no plan.
Then I remember it's just part of the process. I have to go through this stage..that these hours I'll waste scribbling cityscapes on a legal pad are as good as a couple of paragraphs.
Somewhere in the unreachable, lesser-caffeinated regions of my grey matter a story is coming together. It's like my mind is distracting itself so it doesn't get in the way of my brain.
Tomorrow we'll be counting words.
I hate to get all cheesy on you but this is such a great description of writing. I promise not to use words like "our process" and "the craft" though, because then you'd be free to kick me in the shins.
ReplyDeleteThis is me, for all things writing, whether it's another silly post or something a bit more consequential. Before there is anything written, there's me trying to get out of my own way.
I hope you've made more progress than just the cityscape. :)
Lorraine
Misery loves company.
ReplyDeleteI should have something going tonight.
I've had a few visions this morning.
The truth rarely lies on the surface of things. Dust does, at least insofar as my apartment is concerned. And, events are never as they might first seem; even with the facilitated hindsight of multiple playbacks - not every 360-angle feedback channel is entirely covered. That's why I always prefer the council of a good truth serum, such as Bourbon, but I 'll let you pick your own poison. Now sports have their own brutal, adrenaline injected, reality - a heady mixture of aggressive overplay, branded merchandise, money and cold-dish revenge. They're a microcosm of the bigger picture - the ultimate arena of life and death, to paraphrase Shakespeare. So I recommend you barricade yourself in, nail the doors and windows shut, and keep caned consumables and a tin-opener at hand at all times. You're in it for the long-haul, and where your going, hostages are an unacceptable token of bargaining. Hang tough, and God willing, we'll see you on the other side at the dawning of a new day.
ReplyDelete*canned* not *caned* - sweet Lord, I'm in need of a proof reader.
ReplyDeleteBe careful Martha or Adam don't come by and smack your knuckles with a ruler.
ReplyDeleteMan I wish it was gonna be that romantic...it used to be close. Real white knucklers...a kind of sport of it's own.
I've gotten slightly better. There's actually time to proof read and I have been getting things in less than 24 hours late.
I'm gettin' soft.
Having just written assembled and written over 60,000 words in 2 weeks a month or so back. I empathise with this, but was not allowed the time for this noodling. Thankfully some of the info was there, I just had to write a chapter based in it, and say additonal pertinent things, and find references and paralells for it. I still believe I deserve some god-like genius award for it though.
ReplyDeleteIt was on 6 viking burials, an almost unique find in the UK, so no pressure!
Its an awfull lot like my song writing process too, I scratch around on post it notes, and arse about with bits of chords and things, thinkign I have some form of writers block, then one day I just play it.
I assume I'm going to get to read it at some point? I eventually sent you that golf article after you begged me to.
ReplyDeleteI had one sprung on me before last football season...it's a preview for the Millsaps football team. I interviewed three coaches and wrote it in a couple of days...I didn't have the luxury of a week long warm up. Not 6,000 words on a rare archeological find, but for me it was like lightning.
Maybe I should talk to the editor about this...a new strategy.
not 6,000, 60,000 yeah... that bad. Sometimes just getting on with it because there is no time to think is best.
ReplyDeleteIt won't be out for a year or two, but you sure can get a copy. I am crushingly afraid of what our edior will do to it, ours is shall we say a little retentive!
Numbers.
ReplyDeleteIt might as well have been 6,000,000...it's like the 30ft threshold for fear of heights.
What are you doing up anyway...surely not to fact check my comments. The boy wearin' y'all out?
Vikings, as I understand the facts, as related to me in the quality newspapers, never actually wore those two-horned helmets so beloved of big studio, celluloid based, re-imagineerings. One of those instances where fiction is preferable to - and indeed stranger than - fact.
ReplyDeleteNo kiddin'.
ReplyDeleteFlippin archeologists...party poopers.
Yeah, twas a teethign baby bud!
ReplyDeleteThey probably didn't wear them either, least wise not on combat helmets. I was kinda glad as I thought they looked dumb, and the only relevant examples we do have, have got those iron goggles on which look much cooler, sort of dehumanise the face, especially if they were wearing thick black makeup around there eyes as some manuscripts suggest. Thats right folks, you heard it hear first... Vikings in eyeliner.
No horns...and guy-liner huh?
ReplyDeleteI don't want to question your credentials but I'm beginning to think, despite your professional status, you have no knowledge of Hagar the Horrible.
What are they teaching in these schools today.
:0
The iron goggle things are cool. I reckon those horns would have been a little cumbersome.
Blake would get two or three teeth at a time. Made for rough couple of nights, but overall shorter teething time. Not fun...'course if was happening to me today...they'd have to put me out. It must be so painful.
I not only have knowledge, but a rare mug and copies of every softback they did. My favourite is 'hagar the gardner', I empathise with that!
ReplyDeleteYou will of course note that based on my evidence, the true Viking in that is lucky Eddie.