Amanda's recent post about not being able to write immediately made me think of this meme that I found a long time ago. In May 2008 I started writing this post about not being able to write, and intended to answer all the questions in the meme to get my creative writing juices flowing. And then I never did. Aaaanyways, now I'm posting it without my answers to my good buddy Roo Roo. May my failure as a writer inspire the crap out of you, or somebody. Or nobody. As we say in France, disfruta:
In the interest of "writing" I have spent the past hour at work not working, but rather wandering the internet looking for writing tips. I came across some interesting writing exercises that are supposed to cure writer's block. I guess the idea is similar to warm-up exercises in sports or drawing or music - like playing the scales or stretching the muscles. Some people say the hardest part of writing is coming up with a topic (which is what these exercises address).
I believe the hardest part is starting to write. I guess the exercises also help the writer start to write, because writing about some random topic that doesn't really matter to you is way easier than writing about something you find important. I always feel like the reason I can't write is the fear that I might mess it up. It's easy enough to go back and edit something you've already started, but the thought of starting is sometimes too...weighty, or something.
Anyhow, here's the single solitary writing exercise I found that isn't meant for writers of fiction:
1. Do you outline?
2. Do you write straight through a book, or do you sometimes tackle the chapters out of order?
3. Do you know how a book is going to end when you start it?
4. Where do you write?
5. What do you do when you get writer's block?
6. What size increments do you write in (either in terms of wordcount, or as a percentage of the book as a whole)?
7. How many different drafts did you write for your last project?
8. Do you let anyone read your book while you're working on it, or do you wait until you've completed a draft before letting someone else see it?
9. What do you do to celebrate when you finish a draft?
10. One project at a time, or multiple projects at once?
11. Do your books grow or shrink in revision?
12. Do you have any writing or critique partners?
13. Do you prefer drafting or revising?
14. What are your favorite writing books?
15. Morning writer, evening writer, or doesn't matter?
16. How do you handle reviews?
17. How do you handle rejection?
18. Do you prefer to work on writing by yourself? Or do you prefer collaborating?
19. Able to work on airplanes?
20. Have you ever abandoned a book or an article that you had finished? When? Why?
21. What writing advice do you really believe in?
Monday, June 29, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
jingle lyrics contest
I am offering a handsome reward of $10 to anyone who can fill in the blank below. I've already tried to google it with no success. You'd probably have to be a serious Cape Cod radio listener to even know this song, the ubiquitous Zooquarium jingle that plays every 15 minutes from April to Septmeber. Enjoy:
(to the tune of ren and stimpy's "Log" song)
what are we gonna do today?
there's the beach or miniature golf to play
or we could go to the mall (NO!)
are you ready to say
let's all go to the zoo
we can have some fun while we learn about culture
just watch out for the ____ and the turkey vultures!
zooquarium
zooquarium
it just might be more fun than the beach
or anything else
it just might be more fun than the beach
and PS: Zooquarium is nowhere near as much fun as the beach (or anything else)
(to the tune of ren and stimpy's "Log" song)
what are we gonna do today?
there's the beach or miniature golf to play
or we could go to the mall (NO!)
are you ready to say
let's all go to the zoo
we can have some fun while we learn about culture
just watch out for the ____ and the turkey vultures!
zooquarium
zooquarium
it just might be more fun than the beach
or anything else
it just might be more fun than the beach
and PS: Zooquarium is nowhere near as much fun as the beach (or anything else)
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
ode to my ex-roommate
To celebrate the return of my blog I'm posting this, which I wrote exactly one year ago and never finished. It is a top ten list with only 7 items. Enjoy:
today I am celebrating my independence from the worst roommate who ever lived. she is moving out as we speak, probably destroying a good amount of my property in the process. but that's nothing new. to commemorate her last day of ruining my life I have created a very special top ten list.
Top Ten reasons why K---- SUCKS ASS
10. Inability to take care of her poor, long-suffering cat.
9. Destroyed the persian rug my grandmother gave me by spilling a pint of buffalo sauce on it and denied knowing anything about it, even as I picked the empty buffalo sauce bottle lying a few inches between the food she had just eaten and the rug, and politely inquired "Could this have anything to do with it?" Maintained she had no idea how it happened but offered to wash the [HAND-KNOTTED PERSIAN] rug in the WASHING MACHINE.
8. Upon moving in, brought ten or twelve trash bags full of clothes. Proceeded to wash every single item of clothing in our washing machine, using my laundry detergent. When I politely informed her the detergent belonged to me, she claimed ignorance, then said "I thought we shared stuff like that." I said, "It's not sharing if I don't know about it, and it's not sharing if I'm the only one who buys the laundry detergent. and fabric softener. and dish soap. and sponges. and paper towels and toilet paper. and aluminum foil, saran wrap, and wax paper. and salt, pepper, and spices. and milk and butter. and ketchup and mustard and mayonnaise. and soda and juice and beer and wine and wine glasses you break and and wine openers you bend because you're 20 and you don't know how to open that $8 gallon of merlot you stupid f-ing bitch."
7. After using up my detergent to wash ten trash bags full of ugly, skanky clothes apparently chosen to showcase her pasty and disgusting buttcrack, stuffed the empty trash bags IN THE TRASH. Then when we ran out of trash bags, continued to pile trash on top of the overstuffed trash can until it spilled onto the floor. When I returned from a long weekend and noticed that my kitchen resembled a landfill, I politely inquired, "Did you buy more trash bags?" She claimed poverty and unemployment and promised: "I'll call my mom tomorrow and see if she'll buy me some trash bags."
6. Used her poverty as an excuse for everything, but never thought it was quite serious enough to get an f-ing JOB. Meanwhile, claimed "I've been really busy" every time I asked her why she had (e.g.) not washed her dishes for two weeks, not fed her cat for three days, etc. Apparently it's pretty stressful to sit on the couch for 40 hours a week, watching Ellen DeGeneres specials and/or entire seasons of Nip Tuck while eating takeout and making obnoxious screechy noises.
5. Despite my pleas, compulsively invited friends over to dye their hair in my bathtub, using up all my aluminum foil and ruining three different shower curtains as well as the kitchen table my parents had given me just a few months ago. Regarding the shower curtains, she said "I've been told that nail polish remover will get it out. I have the whole week off so I can definitely take care of it." Apparently that week turned out to be "really busy," between watching TV, eating boxed foods, and generally being a complete f-ing idiot. I guess I should just be glad she didn't get around to burning a hole in the shower curtain with acetone.
My parents gave me the kitchen table that had been in our house since I was born. It is a fine piece of furniture, and unable to let anything nice go un-ruined, she got blue hair dye all over the table. To fix it, she also suggested acetone. I basically flipped out at that suggestion, so she decided that she would drive up to Home Depot and buy supplies to sand the dye off the table and REFINISH IT HERSELF. I politely declined her offer. OK, I wasn't polite at all. In fact, I think I may have done permanent damage to my vocal cords that day.
4. Lies compulsively and without shame. Had a massive party on a Tuesday without telling me or the landlords. I found out only because her friend tracked me down at school and said "Did you know K---- invited 150 people to come over tonight?" When I asked her she said she only invited five people and they must have spread the word. I told her I can't wait to "spread the word" to the cops that there are 150 underage drinkers in the house. Then I LOUDLY packed up everything in the liquor cabinet, LOUDLY put a lock on my bedroom door, and left.
today I am celebrating my independence from the worst roommate who ever lived. she is moving out as we speak, probably destroying a good amount of my property in the process. but that's nothing new. to commemorate her last day of ruining my life I have created a very special top ten list.
Top Ten reasons why K---- SUCKS ASS
10. Inability to take care of her poor, long-suffering cat.
9. Destroyed the persian rug my grandmother gave me by spilling a pint of buffalo sauce on it and denied knowing anything about it, even as I picked the empty buffalo sauce bottle lying a few inches between the food she had just eaten and the rug, and politely inquired "Could this have anything to do with it?" Maintained she had no idea how it happened but offered to wash the [HAND-KNOTTED PERSIAN] rug in the WASHING MACHINE.
8. Upon moving in, brought ten or twelve trash bags full of clothes. Proceeded to wash every single item of clothing in our washing machine, using my laundry detergent. When I politely informed her the detergent belonged to me, she claimed ignorance, then said "I thought we shared stuff like that." I said, "It's not sharing if I don't know about it, and it's not sharing if I'm the only one who buys the laundry detergent. and fabric softener. and dish soap. and sponges. and paper towels and toilet paper. and aluminum foil, saran wrap, and wax paper. and salt, pepper, and spices. and milk and butter. and ketchup and mustard and mayonnaise. and soda and juice and beer and wine and wine glasses you break and and wine openers you bend because you're 20 and you don't know how to open that $8 gallon of merlot you stupid f-ing bitch."
7. After using up my detergent to wash ten trash bags full of ugly, skanky clothes apparently chosen to showcase her pasty and disgusting buttcrack, stuffed the empty trash bags IN THE TRASH. Then when we ran out of trash bags, continued to pile trash on top of the overstuffed trash can until it spilled onto the floor. When I returned from a long weekend and noticed that my kitchen resembled a landfill, I politely inquired, "Did you buy more trash bags?" She claimed poverty and unemployment and promised: "I'll call my mom tomorrow and see if she'll buy me some trash bags."
6. Used her poverty as an excuse for everything, but never thought it was quite serious enough to get an f-ing JOB. Meanwhile, claimed "I've been really busy" every time I asked her why she had (e.g.) not washed her dishes for two weeks, not fed her cat for three days, etc. Apparently it's pretty stressful to sit on the couch for 40 hours a week, watching Ellen DeGeneres specials and/or entire seasons of Nip Tuck while eating takeout and making obnoxious screechy noises.
5. Despite my pleas, compulsively invited friends over to dye their hair in my bathtub, using up all my aluminum foil and ruining three different shower curtains as well as the kitchen table my parents had given me just a few months ago. Regarding the shower curtains, she said "I've been told that nail polish remover will get it out. I have the whole week off so I can definitely take care of it." Apparently that week turned out to be "really busy," between watching TV, eating boxed foods, and generally being a complete f-ing idiot. I guess I should just be glad she didn't get around to burning a hole in the shower curtain with acetone.
My parents gave me the kitchen table that had been in our house since I was born. It is a fine piece of furniture, and unable to let anything nice go un-ruined, she got blue hair dye all over the table. To fix it, she also suggested acetone. I basically flipped out at that suggestion, so she decided that she would drive up to Home Depot and buy supplies to sand the dye off the table and REFINISH IT HERSELF. I politely declined her offer. OK, I wasn't polite at all. In fact, I think I may have done permanent damage to my vocal cords that day.
4. Lies compulsively and without shame. Had a massive party on a Tuesday without telling me or the landlords. I found out only because her friend tracked me down at school and said "Did you know K---- invited 150 people to come over tonight?" When I asked her she said she only invited five people and they must have spread the word. I told her I can't wait to "spread the word" to the cops that there are 150 underage drinkers in the house. Then I LOUDLY packed up everything in the liquor cabinet, LOUDLY put a lock on my bedroom door, and left.
despues de la escuela
I just read my last blog post and laughed out loud at myself. It was like reading the words of someone describing having bamboo shoved under their pinky fingernail. That sucked, I hope it's over now. But just wait, friend, you have 9 more fingernails. And 8 of them are bigger than the pinky.
I get the same feeling when I look at my work ID card. The picture was taken the day before school started, when it was just the teachers in the building for orientation. My face is tanned and kind of plump looking, healthy... like the innocent, unsuspecting face of someone on You Can't Do That On Television... someone who is about to have a bucket of slime poured on their head.
Long story short, I had no idea what was about to happen to me. I read that post and thought, on any given day of this school year, a kid asking to take his shirt off would have been among the more "normal" things that happened that day. In fact, most days I'd be lucky if the kid, especially after gym class, even asked to take his shirt off (or walked in with it on in the first place.)
I have been screamed at, sworn at, berated, insulted and generally harassed by teenagers every single day this year. Some of the adults are not much better. I've been overwhelmed by traveling to different classrooms, unsure of my ability to do the job at all, and broken down in tears countless times, to other teachers and even in the classroom. My face looks gray and sunken compared to that ID photo. And somehow, on the last day of exams, when they all finally left and it was just the teachers again, I started to cry. You may be noticing a trend... It's true, all I did this year was f-ing cry. I'm not proud of myself.
I don't even know where I would begin writing about all the crazy stuff that has happened to me, and I'm sure it would be boring to anyone who isn't a high school teacher. (One thing I've learned is that school stories are interesting only to other "school people." I would like to thank all the non-school people who listened to my stories anyways and feigned varying degrees of interest.) So anyways, I'm not going to get into all that, I just want to say:
I get the same feeling when I look at my work ID card. The picture was taken the day before school started, when it was just the teachers in the building for orientation. My face is tanned and kind of plump looking, healthy... like the innocent, unsuspecting face of someone on You Can't Do That On Television... someone who is about to have a bucket of slime poured on their head.
Long story short, I had no idea what was about to happen to me. I read that post and thought, on any given day of this school year, a kid asking to take his shirt off would have been among the more "normal" things that happened that day. In fact, most days I'd be lucky if the kid, especially after gym class, even asked to take his shirt off (or walked in with it on in the first place.)
I have been screamed at, sworn at, berated, insulted and generally harassed by teenagers every single day this year. Some of the adults are not much better. I've been overwhelmed by traveling to different classrooms, unsure of my ability to do the job at all, and broken down in tears countless times, to other teachers and even in the classroom. My face looks gray and sunken compared to that ID photo. And somehow, on the last day of exams, when they all finally left and it was just the teachers again, I started to cry. You may be noticing a trend... It's true, all I did this year was f-ing cry. I'm not proud of myself.
I don't even know where I would begin writing about all the crazy stuff that has happened to me, and I'm sure it would be boring to anyone who isn't a high school teacher. (One thing I've learned is that school stories are interesting only to other "school people." I would like to thank all the non-school people who listened to my stories anyways and feigned varying degrees of interest.) So anyways, I'm not going to get into all that, I just want to say:
- I'm alive
- I'm glad it's over
- I'm really sorry I have been ignoring everyone's phone calls and emails for the past 10 months, and
- I'm now available to hang out, anywhere and any time (Sundays through Thursdays and weekends after work)! As the kids say, get at me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
