Who am I as a writer?

Revising who I am as a writer was never a question until lately. I've always been a storyteller. Stories require words, usually many words, but only as many as are required to tell the story. I've always resisted being a poet as opposed to being a storyteller, first on the premise that I hated poetry (which isn't really true. I just hate BAD poetry, which there is a lot of!) second that I wasn't a good poet (what do teachers say about practice, hmm?) and third for some reason I couldn't quite put a finger on until just recently.

Without going into gory details, life happens: feelings boil over, bodies fail, and you find yourself at a point in your life where you're dealing with emotional and physical issues that are literally life-changing. I have found myself lately unable to deal with these very personal issues in story form, but instead, they reveal their coping strategies to me in verse. Verse? Poetry? Huh?

You see, for me, poetry is a very personal, very visceral thing. It cuts to the core of who I am and reveals not just my heart, but the atoms that hold me together. I have no characters to hide behind, no plot to re-direct the reader, no scenery to distract. It's. All. Me. And when it comes to poetry, apparently I have intimacy issues with my readers. If you laugh at my story character when he's supposed to be serious, I can take that and re-write it, no problem. If you laugh at my poetry when I'm pouring my life-blood into your hands because it hurts too much to keep it inside, then, we have a problem, Houston. Yeah. Intimacy issues. Thought I was over that a LONG time ago. Guess not.

So my revision issues now are to try to allow myself to take up poetry as an expression, first, then second, (and more difficult) allow others to read it and help me revise it to the point it's good enough to share with the public. Definitely a cold dish today, folks. Possibly even frozen. Where's the defrost setting on my microwave?

Life is revision...or should be

Some people are a little unforgiving when it comes to life revision. When they make a judgement about you, they think you are that way forever. While it is true, I believe, that at the core there are some traits that stick with us all our lives (selfishness, greediness, etc.) I still think we can overcome those. Just because we THINK with those baser thoughts first off doesn't mean we have to ACT that way.

It worries me that so many of our children see adults that never learn this. They act on their first thought, never considering that old adage, "Think before you act." Or as the builders say, "measure twice, cut once." These "reality shows" are changing our perception of what adults should act like. There's a reason I don't have cable or watch much TV. I believe we should be trying to better ourselves. Revising our lives. Not in a deceptive way to try to fool others but in a positive way to become a better person and make the world a better place. Revision in writing is hard. Revision in life is even harder. That doesn't make it any less worthwhile.

Personal Vows...Gotta Keep 'em

Okay, so I fell off the blogger bandwagon. Again. I claim teacher disability. Not that I'm disabled, but that my involvement in teaching disables me from writing on the side as much as I want. It's an excuse, but also a good reason. I also need sleep and exercise otherwise the poor dears would be in danger of hearing me yell all day and I would be in danger of losing my job. I'm not THAT ready for the free-lance market, yet.


Just returned from the Missouri Writers' Guild conference with a great deal of success and heartache. Success in that our Southeast chapter won a great number of individual awards as well as winning Basket Wars. Heartache in the sense that after pitching my novel three times in a row (what were you thinking?) I got a massive migraine and was bed-ridden for the rest of the day. This meant I missed GIVING MY PRESENTATION, all but one of the Saturday breakout sessions and missed the banquet. Sigh. Such is life, but let's just say I'm not going to do that to myself again.

So, vow #1 - not going to pitch three times in a day and plan on doing anything else. No, scratch that. Not planning on pitching more than one time in any day. Let's just be reasonable about this all around. (I know, I know, why start now, but I am getting older. That means wiser, right?)

Vow #2 - I really need to keep this blog up-to-date. I do a lot of updates on FB, but I should do them here instead. Keeps everything organized.

When my certificates for my winning stories come in, I'm going to dress up in my get-up I'd picked out for the MWG banquet and take a picture and post it here. Late and after the fact, but still accurate.

Little effort, little publishing

Got another Twitter Fiction published: http://www.onefortyfiction.com/archives/at-the-playground#comments. Writing these is about all I can do with the energy I have left these days. Hopefully I'll get my vertigo solved and I'll be more productive.

Long, pointless stories...with a point

One of my favorite types of story is the Shaggy Dog story. They aren't about dogs, necessarily, nor are they about shagginess. Shaggy Dog stories are generally long, drawn out yarns that either end with a surprising twist on an old saying/cliche, or end with a pointless, "Oh." My faves are usually the first, but my father would tell the second a lot! Here are some good examples.

http://www.wordiq.com/definition/Shaggy_dog_story

Shaggy Dog stories with the twist on a cliche ending are fun for me because as I'm listening, I'm trying to figure out what the end saying is going to be. It's a puzzle. A challenge. Sometimes I'm a little right, sometimes I have no guess or am totally wrong, but the fun is in the attempt, not necessarily being right. Although, being right is a lot of fun.

Some people don't like them because of their long, drawn out qualities or the pointlessness of the ending on some of them, but isn't that life sometimes? You think there's meaning in everything and sometimes there's none!

I guess my biggest reason for liking them is I grew up with my father telling them, a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his lips. He enjoyed the humor and the anticipation, and now so do I.

Wallowing in Freakish Misery...

For the last few weeks I've felt pretty miserable. Nothing has been particularly wrong, and in fact, I can say I'm one of the most blessed people I know. My malaise is biologically based, I realize this, but sometimes it's hard to see the foam at the end of the roller coaster when the cotton candy has been smeared all over your glasses. And how do you fight your own body?

So when I got up today, I grudgingly went to go workout, then with much internal whining went to work, fully expecting to need a nap after 30 minutes. Only planned on staying a few hours. Didn't want to go hungry for my little time there, so packed a post-workout drink and a snack.

Ended up staying all day, only briefly stopping to eat, and came home feeling GOOD. Really good. As in I wanted to clean and make supper good. Sigh.

Structure and work. Solves the biological spiral. I think I'm going to puke. Could I be turning into an adult?

Wasting Time

Have you ever had a project you looked forward to completing, got everything together to work on it, rubbed your hands in in anticipation, then spent the next two hours in frustration because it JUST WILL NOT WORK?

I hate wasting time. The older I get the more I realize I probably have less time left than I've spent on this planet. Scary thought! And to spend time and get nothing out of it irks me more than many things. Including burnt toast, which only wastes a few minutes of time and a cheap piece of bread.

Then I get all philosophical about what wasting time teaches me. All the positives. Yeah, right. Wasting time is pointless, fruitless, and boring. All it teaches me is that I should have planned my project better. Done more research. Left open other possibilities instead of burning bridges so at the end I'm not left with nothing.

Oh.