Category Archives: Fear and Writing

Some thoughts, about a quote, from a guy, from the second century, involving philosophy.

“Treat with the utmost respect your power of forming opinions, for this power alone guards you against making assumptions that are contrary to nature and judgements that overthrow the rule of reason. It enables you to learn from experience, to live in harmony with others, and to walk in the way of the gods.” (taken from The Emperor’s Handbook -Marcus Aurelius- , A new translation of The Meditations by Scot Hicks and David V. Hicks)

Please note the above quote does not say guard your opinions, but the power of forming opinions. The authors of the translation go on to talk about what controls this power and how The Meditations helps guard against foreign powers from taking over how I get my opinions. These powers can be anything, drink, love, lust, or an actual foreign power influencing you.

Again it is not our own prejudices we are guarding, although they are a real threat to living a better life, or so I believe. If we can’t with confidence evaluate how we live our lives and change as a result, we are in far deeper trouble than being manipulated.

Not that reason is the be all end all, indeed, the current modern expression of the scientific method has been co-oped by research grants controlled not by the search for reasons, but by the search for funding. Scientists can only research when there is funding. And funding rarely, if ever, rewards innovative unproven hypothesis to test. Our investigation is derivative. It must be built on something previously proven.

But I digress, the quote is about the individual guarding their own process for coming to a conclusion and forming an opinion. I doubt there is a single course of study providing guidance in this matter. Critical thinking, you say? Critical thinking is by enlarge about thinking, not protecting.

What are your defenses for guarding your process? When you write do you jump on the latest bandwagon, magic bullet for writing? I sadly don’t have an answer other than I try to:

  1. Record what works for me to write and then practise that process.
  2. Avoid ‘triggers’ that put me out of the writing flow.
  3. A space to write in.
  4. Music

Somedays I wish I could wrap myself in bubble wrap. How about you?

Today’s diatribe has been brought to you by the word ‘Trigger’ and I don’t mean the horse.

Be Well…dcd

Back to Blogging

I’ll hopefully be filing the space here on a regular basis to get the flow of typing/writing going again as I try and put some projects back online.

Goal is once a week with a new piece of art or photo for each blog. The focus of the blogs is undetermined at this time. There is a high probability that I will be using them to dump raw scenes or try out ideas that are once removed from a real idea I am writing on.

An example of this might be on writing pieces focusing on minute detail. What is the bird thinking about when eating a shelled seed? How did it shelled? Or ‘It’s about time he stopped putting the the shelled seeds out, aint nobody got time for shelling and thank the lord above he got a squirrel proof feeder finally.’

But none the less some free-style, blah, blah to get going.

Currently I’m listening to A Pattern of Shadow and Light by Melissa McPhail. It’s been a wonderful series. But today I want to comment on the narrator – Nick Podehl – he is amazing and actually the reason that I am listening to the series at all.

I was out of books to read and I want to keep on an Epic Fantasy Theme, because that seems to make me happy on my 36 minute commute. I searched his name and found Ms.McPhail’s series on Audible. While this may seem odd at first blush, it’s not to me. I liken it to watching all the movies by a specific director or actor. He does an tremendous job on all books he voices, which are quite a few.

I have to wonder what his real voice sounds like? Does he ever use his real voice.

Do any of us use our real voice or are we only imitating what we think we sound like? It’s common for people not to like their own voice once recorded and then played back for them. And that’s what this blog is about finding my voice in writing again. A voice that makes no sound but is an integral part of any writing.

Be Well…dcd

Escape Of The Circus Ponies

The whimsy of the song forced a small smile onto his face, despite all attempts to prevent it. For a while he let his head sway to and fro just listening to the song, not letting memories and melancholy of long ago overtake him.

Degas Remembered?

The furtive first line of the song, the hesitation before the escape was simply wonderful. A precis of the gentle bounding to come. Then, rather than a stampede of sound, the composer let a lyrical ride of notes cascade out and run around the listener.

Still he let himself just listen.

Solace.

He found solace in the song. Understanding now why he was listening to this song, this song from so long ago, when he was a different man. Comfort in time of distress. But what sorrowed him now? What was his distress?

He let his thoughts wander and drift where they may, relieved of all control or all purpose. Currents of movement, of where he wanted to be, of where he wasn’t.

“It’s time sir.” His aide said.

Taking in a deep breath, he open his eyes letting it out in a slow powerful, grounding action, his confidence returned.

Taken from: Memoirs Of The General by Aninka Kindly circa 14 N.E

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Escape Of The Circus Ponies is a real piece of music by Liz Story.

Memoirs of The General is a fictional book written about General Tanner Kindly.

Most of the time spent writing this was given over to finding the spelling of the word “precis”.

Degas Remembered? Is a real piece of art created by dcd.

Be Well…dcd

Routine and Writer and a lack of quotation marks.

She explained juggling was simple. He laughed, watching her keep five balls in the air. They fell like a fountain, cascading perfectly into her hand. Cascading, like her hair, her laughter. He loved his muse.

Inhaling her presence of wonder, her every word kept him in rap attention. A juggler, only catches one ball at a time, and throws one ball at time she said. You can catch one ball at a time. You can throw one ball at a time.

Tile Apr-2019

She threw him one ball, startled, he dropped it. A giggle escaped her lips. Still maintaining the balls in the air she knelt and picked it up.

Now you are ready? Try again, and she tossed the ball he caught it. They smiled. Next time use one hand, she chided him. She threw him another ball, but his hands were full, he dropped the first one and missed the second one.

Silly, juggling is throwing the balls up, not down. Again she picked up both balls. All the while juggling. He knew not to ask where all the balls were coming from. Muse’s were magic, and one did not ask such questions, lest the Muse leave.

He dropped the balls again. She took a deep breath, a wry smile crossing her face. She stopped juggling and the balls disappeared. One ball in her hand she tossed it to him. He caught it and tossed it back.

She didn’t throw it back. Instead, her eyes, the pools of his inspiration looked at him. Now you play catch, with yourself. First with two hands, then with one. Soon it will be routine and you will write regularly.

Write? I thought we were talking about juggling?

My silly human, what ever gave you that idea, this is a blog about writing.

Be Well…dcd

Butt In Chair

Rambling string of conscious blog done at high speed…

The singular most important action you can take as a writer, is to get your butt in the chair and write as often as possible. Good, Bad, Ugly, rambling, off topic, anything.

The habit of writing is an elusive lover, once found, you will cherish and safeguard. But like smoke, will escape in a careless moment, leaving the faint smell of missed opportunity and regret. I

If I had only written every day this week I’d be finished this chapter, story book.

Many people treat writing like a one night stand, fun, mysterious, dangerous…but not a commitment. Commitment, a foreign concept in today’s world sordid social media where many want to spread their hate as fast at the STD rate.

The dirty secret about commitment is it involves accountability. And is anyone accountable for anything today? We have excuses for everything. No one owns their mistakes, and if they do, they are considered weak.

All relationships go through struggles, the ups and downs not involving pleasure. Writing is no different for me.

Like a recovering alcoholic all writer’s need a support group. Find one.

Be Well…dcd

Painting and Writing

I’ve recently started experimenting with acrylic pour painting. Today’s blog focuses on one aspect that fascinates me , people like what I would paint over.

Not the one I was going to paint over.

I’m not going to try and explain what acrylic pour painting is. I’ll show you a couple of examples. If you are interested, a simple search on the ‘u Tubes will show you more than you ever wanted.

The whole fam damily tries it out.

As you can see the results are highly varied and each person likes or dislikes the paintings as they see fit. One of the components of this painting style is, if you don’t like it, you can easily paint over it. This takes us to our point: Don’t paint over what other people like.

I made a piece that I didn’t like. Getting ready to paint over it, my spouse said, “What? That’s beautiful, don’t paint over it.” Shocked I said, “But I don’t like it.”

Then I stopped. Everyone’s taste is different. People appreciate different aspects of abstract painting. I showed it to a second person, who didn’t know the reaction of the first person. They liked it. I can’t understand why these people like this piece. I doubt I ever will. But it caused me to think if I do the same thing in my writing.

Have I scrapped or trashed scenes because I won’t like them in real life? I have a tendency to avoid the awkward squeamish scenes from ‘reality’ tv shows. Have I avoided writing the super embarrassing confrontation because I wouldn’t like it in real life? Even now, years removed from a situation, I cringe at my actions, and naivete. Even though it’s the perfect example of what I’m talking about, I can’t write about it.

From what I have read, and talking to other authors, there comes a time when you don’t like what you’re writing. It’s all garbage, I can’t write, why am I even doing this writing thing? Stop and get some perspective. This may mean giving it to someone else to read, or just shelving it for two weeks until you are in a better frame of mind.

My favorite is, “I hate the PoV, I’m going re-write it.” Next time, consider, maybe the PoV is fine, and you’re just squeamish about having to submit it. Or afraid of being rejected. To the best of my knowledge, to be an author means dealing with rejection from publishers, editors, agents. It’s part of the writing process. Embrace it.

You’re not always right about your own art, at least I’m not.

Be Well…dcd

There are always more anomalies than you planned for – j.townsend 2019

In the mythical world of earth I am a character working in information technology at a company. We recently moved into a new building. Therefore for the last two weeks, I’ve done nothing but work and discover anomalie s . Anomalies require two immediate steps be taken, one is a prompt work around solution to allow the business to function and two, a report sent to allow for the issue to be resolved. Step one requires creative out of the box thinking. Step two requires accurate details to permit the swift resolution. Those of you who have been in this position know that “swift” can sometimes mean 6 or 7 weeks.

The third aspect of this process is the pristine perfect work, your work, your pride, is often compromised to get people working. And unless you do my job it is beyond difficult to experience the ruination of your own work because of others. Such is my situation. Instead of an impeccable server room with neat cables, I have what amounts to a rats nest of chaos. In fact I doubt whether rats would live there.

Random Cat Picture!

The astute reader will identify this as a metaphor for the writing process. And as someone who is going to send out three manuscripts this year into the chaos of slush piles, I have a lot of pain ahead of me. A writer fulfills all these roles, from owner to architect to finish carpenter to accountant to receptionist to IT guy. (PS – IT people hate being called “IT Guy”)

The result is the next several blogs will deal with aspects of anomalies that have corresponded to events in the new building. It’ll be fun, we’ll laugh, we’ll cry and I might get my sanity back. Hopefully I will get my writing mojo back.

Topics include, More phones than places to plug them in: Bridging your main character until you flesh them out making them a better character and thereby making your story better.

Why is it so cold in the building: Building heat in your story that is consistent with your characters. Not just a tussle in the bedroom.

Dealing with false accusations: How to get the enemy to aid your cause without compromising your values.

All of this will be from my limited perspective as a writer. Join me on the mythical adventure into the real world of my writing.

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More than ever this year, be good to people. Recognize kindness, take time to honestly praise people in front of others. Hate surrounds us, destroying the soul of society do not aid in the destruction.

Be well…dcd

I’m not as good as I think I am…

This is not a downer, woe is me blog. If you’re looking for one of those, keep looking. This about me acknowledging to be a writer and have the good habits of writers, I need to follow the hacks that others use. I am not above them. I need to do, what I tell others to do. This is should not surprise anyone.

As a result, this will be a short blog, were I trick myself into writing more.

pour-01

And now, a short diversion. The year is 1976. I’m in grade 11. At this point in my life I play a tremendous number of sports. A group of traveling athletes came to our high school in rural Alberta. A chance to see National football players was unheard of at that time. I was one of the fortunate ones chosen to compete in a little head to head action in a variety of sports.

All three of the men were currently playing in the NFL. The one I remember was the Center for the Minnesota Vikings. He was a big man. By Big I mean walls got out of his way and said sorry. (They were Canadian Walls). In the three on three basketball competition. We mistakenly thought we could leave him unguarded on the perimeter. Yea, that was a dumb idea. He was nothing but net from the outside. We also foolishly thought we stood a chance in any of the competitions… Ah the stupidity of youth. And in thinking we could win, I foolishly tried to draw a charging call on Mr.Big. It was a great idea.

Somehow I saw what the play was going to be. So I set up where Mr.Big was going to drive the lane. Arms crossed in front of me protecting the family jewels, ready to draw the charge. Mr.Big caught the ball spun and drove the lane to the basket. When he turned, imagine his shock to see me standing there. But it was too late he barrelled into skinny high school smart ass.

I will attempt to relate what I think happen in mirco pieces of time between him seeing me and his contact with me.

First, I believe he understood, well before I did, what was going to happen. Secondly, he tried to drop the ball and grab me to prevent what occurred. Lastly, he felt pain for me. Sorrow, regret. The last he thing he wanted to do, was hurt anyone.

What happened next was simple physics. Force = mass x acceleration. He hit me square in the chest with his shoulder and I launched off the ground like a Saturn V rocket heading to the moon. (Further evidence would show that the circumference of one of his thighs corresponded to my waist.)

Well, I would have reached the moon, but the polite wall didn’t believe in getting out of the way of idiots and therefore it prevented me being the first Canadian in space. In the nano second before I let the wall catch me, I heard the sound of silence. The entire gym inhaled and held their breath. Even the athletes. I could see all three of them, the fear in their eyes that they just a killed a Canadian High School student.

My mother often said, “You can’t hurt a Dear male by hitting them in the head.” Once again Mother was right.

To this day I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why I wasn’t hurt. But I know you can’t fly through the air and get stopped by cinder block wall and not be hurt. I know from first hand experience. But on that day, in that place, I was fine. I don’t offer an explanation.

What is the lesson I learned? It took me years to figure out what I learned.

I was wrong, is what I have come to understand. The outcome of the game was never in doubt. My drawing the charge wouldn’t have won the game. But to see the pain and hurt in those grown men’s eye’s as I flew threw the air with the greatest of ease, I don’t need to see again. Even if I was in the right.

Be Well…dcd

Mindset

The impact of other’s emotions on my life disables me from writing.

Plain, simple, straight forward.

And right now, I don’t want to harden myself to this reality of life. But neither do I want to let it dominate me. I’m not sure where that leads me? Less facebook and cnn never hurt anyone. And it’s quite clear facebook and cnn have hurt people. It might be that simple.

DoorReSize

I suppose another option is to continue the filtering and de-following of the propagators of hate. That’s never a bad idea. I think I’ll start looking for a cave. Something not too sandy but still with good drainage.

This is really an inner  monologue on balance. Life balance. Learning to write, is only one part of a writer’s mindset, of my writer’s mindset. The problem is for me at this time writing is fragile. It takes time and resources, it’s not like fixing a computer, which I could probably do in a coma.

What’s fragile about writing? I mean come on grow up, it’s almost 2020, your jet pack will be here soon. Just sit down and type, how hard could it be?

I’ve never been a writer. It’s not a skill I have. My corporate emails are fraught with missing words, and prepositions are apparently unknown to me in amy form prose.  Don’t get me wrong, I love words, the nuance of finding the correct word for me. On the other hand, writing is like shopping for paint colours.

“Oh that’s a great sky blue.” I say.

She who knows colors rolls her eyes and says, “That’s robin’s egg blue…”

I’ve stopped picking out paint with her. It’s safer and in the end the color is great. Even if I don’t the right name. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

But words are different. They are different depending where you are in the world and who your audience is.

Physic’s convention, A scientist stands up and asks, “What kind of diaper did Schrodinger’s cat wear?” Answer – “Depends”  

I’ve struggled with this blog trying to convey the struggle to just write and how I am impacted by the world and suffering. I’ll take another run at it another day.  For today I will leave you with this.

“One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.”
― Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums

Until then, be well, dcd

Top Ten Reasons for me to finish my latest WIP

  1. Finishing is good.
  2. Stop getting the “Are you still working on that? I thought you finished it last year?”
  3. Get rid of the guilt all the characters in the novel are putting on me to finish.
  4. Finally get to write the scenes I’ve been waiting to write.
  5. The New Hotness will finally get a chance to be the Old Hotness.
  6. NaNoWriMo is just around the corner.
  7. The first draft of the Mystery is getting angry at being ignored and is thinking of making me the victim in the sequel.
  8. I’ll be allowed to complain about George Martin not finishing his series. At least he’s been writing…
  9. Finishing will allow me to get rejected by a whole new group of people – Publishers.
  10. I can blog about writing again, because I’ll be writing again.

 

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Obligatory cat photo

As Always – Be Well – dcd.