Monoliths and Turds?

Whilst it may be true that there really is no such thing as writer’s block, that doesn’t mean that there aren’t occasions when my head refuses to come up with anything interesting and coherent to say.

Writers the world over have come up with many solutions to such a problem, but I still subscribe to the old practice of ‘write something every day, even if you’ll never do anything with it’. I even have my own method of doing so, which goes like this:

Open up a blank page on Word, close my eyes, relax and just let whatever comes to mind flow on to the page. Since I’m a pretty skilled typist, typing with my eyes closed poses no problems, yet sometimes what my mind comes up with just fills me with surprise and curiosity.

Like today, having a clear out of some old files on my computer, I came across a page which was an obvious example of me trying to get my brain back in the mood for writing. What I was actually thinking at the time is no longer clear to me, but I found this piece so strange and compelling – as if it wasn’t my own work – that I just had to share it.

It goes like this:

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When it is all said and done and people don’t even realise what happened, it will all work out perfectly in the meandering stream of existence that trickles through alcoves of the mind and lands firmly, without a sound, at your feet.

These are the things that men used to dream of, to create something so astounding that people will look on it for years to come as some kind of monolith for the ages, a milestone in the development of human existence that nobody, not even their families, knew who put it there.

Things are different today though. Drop a turd on the pavement, take a picture and send it into a magazine, they’ll print it, pay you and all of a sudden you’re a freakin’ celebrity.

That’s all people want these days, fame and fortune for minimal effort. Sack the lot of them and bring in those monolith makers with their mystery and wonder and piles upon piles of great design.

Why, we created our entire universe, trading ideas with people we’ve never met, sending influences flying through the cosmos and redefining everything we once knew.

No longer though, now people seem content with what they’ve got and eager to exploit it to all and sundry.

Sack them, sack the lot of ‘em I say.

Feeeling Good

It is often claimed that, unless you count scratching your arse and holding a can of larger at the same time, men are pretty useless when it comes to multi-tasking.

Up until at least yesterday, I would’ve said that I was proof positive of such a claim.

Whenever that point comes up in a job interview when the interviewer asks ‘And what are your weaknesses?’, I normally respond with the fact that whenever I get enthusiastic, passionate, or simply excited about a project, it becomes the all encompasing focus of my life. Every waking thought or action is devoted to said project and everything else in my life falls to crap.

Another weakness of mine, one which I don’t necessarily tell any potential employers about, and one which could well be at odds with everything I’ve said above, is that I am absolutely awesome at procrastinating.

These are the reasons I rarely post blogs, rarely do whatever it is Anna tells me to do when she tells me to do, and the reason that, when I take a day off work, I get absolutely fuck all done.

Usually, I’ll take a day off from work and plan to spend a lovely day writing, playing ‘band manager’ or working on one of the sundry other bits and bobs I find myself involved in from time to time.

Instead, what actually happens is that I become all too engrossed in the wonders of naked ladies on the internet and Dog The Bounty Hunter repeats and before I know it, The Girlfriend’s home and I’ve wasted a day.

Yesterday however, things changed. I had planned to spend the day working on my novel, and come hell or high water,  I did.

I spent seven glorious hours sat on my living room floor scrawling away, pausing only to put a laundry load in or make my umpteenth cup of tea, and by the day’s end I felt so unbelievably proud of myself!

Today though, I was somewhat worried. Having spent all day working on the novel, would I be tempted to come into work this morning, forgo all the shit that I actually get paid to do and sneakily write the novel all day.

I probably would’ve done, but like I say, I was more proud of the fact that I’d stuck to my plan rather than that I’d actually got over a recent case of ‘writer’s block’ and quite rightly knucked down to my job.

OK, so I didn’t actually get any writing done today, but it felt good to stick to my plans, and the best thing is, I hardly proscratinated all day.

So now I’m home, I’ve had my tea, I’m going to enjoy a well deserved hour of chilling out, then I’m going to sit back down and write some more.

I feel darn good right now.