Tag Archives: on writing

Common Demons

10:07 pm

Today, my sister and I met a woman at Omega Institute.  She heard us speaking Russian and being Russian herself, she asked to join us for lunch.  She was there taking a workshop on writing.  I asked her enviously about it.  Why didn’t I think about taking a writing workshop while I am here?  I did think about it, but with my two-year-old Isaiah, it is not cool to disappear for days.

At the table, she started talking about her writing block.  About her inability to go deeper, looking at me with her big blue eyes as if I was going to give her the answer she needed.  I let my sister do the talking as I tried to feed my son, who thought his lunch would be peas and pumpkin seeds.  At one moment, she almost wept at our table.  With all this emotion, she can’t go deeper?  I tried to chime in, but my big salad with the fresh garlic scent of the Veganese ranch dressing was competing for my attention.  Looking at her writing block issue, instantly freed me.

When I first started writing publicly it came pouring out of me.  How could anyone ever feel blocked, I thought as I walked down the street with millions of topics to write about circling wildly in my mind.  I had to stop  and take notes to keep from imploding.

Then, a moment came.  I talk about it often.  The what do I write about moment.  Oh, this is writer’s block.  Today I came face to face with it.  The face of it, I give now to this woman.  Her writing block was sad.  It was desperate, like she had no control of herself, it was just something that descended on her.  She was merely a victim of this common demon.

There are no demons except for the ones I invent. F*** writer’s block.

10:56 pm

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Waiting

After not writing for just a few days I feel tongue-tied.  It is the same feeling when I am home alone for too long.  When I finally see people, I have no idea what to talk about.

After I quit my job, I was making jewelry at home.  For the first time, probably in my life, it was me home alone with my dog, wire and shiny stones.   I loved it at first but then I started to notice how fast people were talking when I crawled out of my cave.  I watched them connect quickly and discuss pop culture and current events.  Events that I was not keeping track of in my cave.  My cave was just a place where I slowly worked on my business and went for short walks to the park with my dog, begging him to do “his business” (that he preferred doing at home).

Before that, I did not realize that socializing is a muscle that grows weak if I do not use it.  Writing is the same.  I got busy for a while living my regular life.  Life where I talk to my husband at night or watch a show with him.  Life where I do not recount my days and thoughts.  I enjoy that life but I do not enjoy my weak muscles when I am faced with the white screen.

I have been running in the park in the mornings, letting my mind race.  What can I write about?  Is never a good question to ask.  It has to come naturally when I sit on this chair and my fingers hit the keys.  It comes and I am just hitting the keys.  Inspiration is meeting that person I like, I don’t have to think with them: What question should I ask them next?

I often hear creatives praising moments of inspiration.  I have learned that the moments come when I am working already.  I can’t just watch TV and wait for the moment.  I have to be with my nose in the work and Eureka!  So here I am, back again to face the blank screen, waiting…

10:08 pm

Hot Tub Time Machine

9:56 pm

I could not decide if I should write tonight or watch Hot Tub Time Machine.  Sometimes I think this blog has carried me away into a far land.  Since starting this blog, I have slowly detached myself from reality.  It is the difference between being outside in the world versus inside my head.  Writing puts me inside even when I observe the world around me, I have to retreat to digest it.

I had a pet snake when I was in High School.  Her name was Hookah.  My parents did not realize that the word meant, an Arabian water pipe.  I fed her a mouse once a week.  Each time it took her a while to eat it.  I sat there watching her, waiting for her to eat the mouse.  It was my own National Geographic.  Initially, she would perk up when the mouse entered her habitat and then go back to doing what she was doing, lying curled up in the corner of the tank.  Eventually, she would raise her head, watch the mouse, carefully aiming for an attack.  This would take a long time. At any moment she would strike.  The strike was fast and that was the end of it.

One time, the mouse and the snake became friends.  It was days before she ate it.  Meanwhile the mouse slept curled up on top of the snake every night.

What I really wanted was a dog.

More that the snake catching of the mouse, I loved the digestion of the mouse.  This sometimes took hours or almost a whole day.  The big bulge traveling down its body.

I feel like that snake.  I notice something strange happens to me in life and I perk up but then continue with the momentum of my life, almost as if it didn’t happen.  There is a mouse sleeping on my head and I don’t notice that it is feeding time.  All of a sudden, I realize it.  The mouse is right on top of me.  I perk up again and strike at this laptop.  It is only when I am writing that I begin to slowly digest it.  The thoughts start to connect in my brain and travel slowly down the rest of my body.  I understand a new reality of being full but I am still just sitting in my tank.

10:28 pm

 

 

Day 48, the Experiment

5:31 pm

Tomorrow I will start a new count.  This will be a series of 40 day experiments because eventually that will be my character in my screen play or show that I will write as one of the 40 day experiments. Today will be a recap day of the first 40 days and tomorrow I will pick a new experiment.


40 Day Writing Experiment Recap

Every experiment needs a Hypothesis.  My Hypothesis was that if I write everyday: It will become a routine, I will become a better writer and I will change myself and therefore the world.  I think that’s what it was.  Now I will set my hypothesis prior to the experiment.

My findings.

The 40 days of writing uprooted feelings, ideas and memories that were buried inside. It was all the unsaid, the unexposed, the shamed, the hidden, the scared, the joyful. All buried. When I started writing it became very clear and very quickly that I need it. Now its a routine. Like brushing my teeth and flossing (I wish), I clean out by writing. Cleaning is not the word it’s more like dancing my soul. Whatever the word is, the feeling is that I have a message, dammit. I want to tell people that message, I don’t care if they hear it or not but I need to tell it.  I am amazed every time someone says they heard it.

During the 40 days, I started with 0 readers and I now I have a nice bunch. I mean it, really nice people are reading my blog. If you are reading it, you are nice. I am told by new people all the time that they are reading, relating and inspiring themselves. My friend Michelle just started Mommy Theorist (inspired by moi), she is a writer and an editor and how cool is the name Mommy Theorist.  I feel so proud that I inspired a writer to write.

This is not a black hole. I saw a paper journal in this trendy boutique that said on it “Fuck your Blog.” I was personally offended.  I felt that it was talking to me.  My first reaction and underline reaction was , why don’t I just privately journal, why the whole show. Then I remembered the boxes during my move. At my parent’s house there is at least two boxes of my unedited, unread and probably never to be read journals, unless I become a famous writer which I am not ruling out of the realm of possibilities.  I like having a large realm.  The pages are thinning and the ink is fading.  I can’t do a word search on them.  There are no tags or categories, there are barely any dates.  In my current house there is also at least two boxes of the same. I won’t use the hard language but “Dang You Paper Journal!” (I am not saying Yours).  If you want to journal privately, fine, it’s better than nothing but don’t curse at my Blog and the Blogs of so many others.  And watch the language, there are kids who come your store.

I’ve been journaling for years and never did anyone say, I love what you wrote in your journal, it inspired me to write in my journal.  No one said, I love what you wrote in your journal about your ex boyfriend, I cried because I had a similar pain and held on to it.  I didn’t start this to help anyone but myself but that’s how help works.  It helps others the most when you help yourself.

My mother-in-law told me two days ago that she has read every blog entry. Thank you, Maria! That makes me feel so loved and not only loved but known.  There is no way that you would get to know me so well unless you read this.  Even if we lived together.  My own mom is getting to know me through this medium.  And I am getting to know me.  We could live a lifetime without really knowing each other.  At least now you know me, now we just have to sign you up on WordPress.

Experiments within the Experiment

I will take one day a week off. Shabbat on Saturday.  My last entry for the week will be on Friday afternoon and then the first one will be on Sunday.  I need to empty the vessel so that I can fill it back up again.  My sister reminded me of this recently and it has been my motto since she said it.

Somewhere in between the above paragraphs, I went to Zumba at JCC with my favorite mother-in-law.  It’s 9:50 pm.

I figured out what my next experiment will be.  40 days of Dance.  Dancing a half an hour a day for 40 days!

40 Day Dance Party!  Hypothesis will be written tomorrow.

10:13 pm