Biff Sock Pow

Finding the humor in everyday life.

Archive for the tag “Writer’s Block”

A Field Guide to Dishwater

overcoming_writers_block

I have sat here for over an hour staring at this screen trying to think of something interesting to write about.  I was unsuccessful.

So then I thought I’d try to think of something less interesting to write about.  Again, I came up empty handed.

I suppose I could write about something that is downright uninteresting to write about, guaranteed to be as dull as dishwater and half as entertaining.  But I believe that is called “my journal”, and I still haven’t gotten over my fear of posting anything too personal on this here internet contraption.  I don’t know why I worry, though.  As dull as my life is, I’m pretty darn sure I don’t have to worry about identity thieves or stalkers.  Such miscreants would no doubt take up a collection and give it to me, saying, “Here, Dude.  Go buy yourself a life.”

So what is left to the man who’s life is too dull to write about?  And now you know how and why fiction was created.

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Rusting On My Laurels

angif-rest-on-your-laurels

This is my 124th post (yay me!), which is about 120 more than I thought I’d be able to create when I first started this journey at the beginning of the year (2017).  Sticking to projects is not my strong suit.  I get bored easily, which, I suppose is just a euphemism for “I’m lazy” or “I have a very short attention span“.

But honestly, I never thought I’d get this many posts written.  (high fives myself)

So I’ve been wondering when it gets easier.  When will I be able to just sit down and dash off something and post it?  When will I post 2 or 3 times a day just because I have that many interesting things to say?

It’s a struggle to write even once a day.  My days don’t change much from day to day.  I’m firmly ensconced on the work-home-sleep-work treadmill.  Whatever flashes of brilliance or genius I have while in the car on the way to or from work tend to either get forgotten by the time I am sitting in front of the computer, or else when I really start to ponder them and try to flesh them out as a blog post, they take on a sort of ridiculousness or insipidness that makes me just wad them up and throw them in the trashcan (figuratively speaking).

But if there’s one thing I’ve discovered, blogging is definitely a “what have you done for me lately?” medium.  One can post every day for a month and the likes and the follows roll in (relatively speaking), but stop posting for a single day and they drop to zero quicker than you can say Jack Robinson.  It’s definitely not like a musician who has a hit song or an actor who’s on a hit TV show that goes into syndication.  The royalties don’t keep rolling in decades after the song or show was first released.

So, there’s no resting on one’s laurels.  It is, to borrow a phrase from academia, publish or perish.

The problem is, I don’t have enough interesting thoughts or experiences to post every day.  I may have to resort to just making things up.

But I’d hate to be mistaken for a journalist or politician.

 

 

Habits: the Good Die Young

dying young

It’s amazing how quickly good habits can atrophy when we have to give them up for a mere couple of days.

I had been good for months.  I wrote in this blog, if not every day, certainly every day or two (or three).  However, being away from it for a mere week while on a trip has virtually erased my ability and desire to sit down at dash out a blog post.  I am embarrassed to admit how many hours I’ve spent staring at this laptop screen over the past three days, trying to think of something (anything) to write.  Alas.  Words escape me.  I have an acute case of linguistic blockage.  Or, as they say in Esperanto, la bloko de verkisto.

Bad habits, in contrast, persist long after we stop doing them, even if we stop for years or decades.  We are always one slip-up away from returning to a bad habit.

For example, I can write every day for ten years, but if I miss a single day after that ten years, then I am very likely to never return to it again.  On the other hand, I can pop my knuckles every day for a mere couple of months, but if I miss a single day after those months, on the second day I will break out in a cold sweat and my mind becomes obsessed with popping my knuckles to the exclusion of all other thoughts.

So what am I trying to say?

I’m saying that I gave up some very important knuckle-popping in order to force myself at gunpoint to grind out this horrible blog post.

Pity is expected, but likes are preferred.

 

 

Have This Blog Back Before Midnight

Writer Cartoon

Okay … here we go.  It’s blog time!

[Stares slack-jawed at computer screen for 45 minutes.]

Oh, who am I kidding?  Blogs are for people with interesting lives.  There are only so many ways I can re-package and re-sell this lump of beige … lumpy … insipidity.  It’s like I’m trying to sell you a Pet Rock™, except that I’ve already sold you the same one 55 times before.  Oh, sure, you make a pretty good gift face, but in your head you’re thinking, “Wow … this is the exact same rock this guy gave me yesterday, except this one has not the same rock written on it in purple Sharpie.™

I should just give up.

Poof!

Hey!  Who are you?

Why, I’m your Fairy Blog Mother.

Oh cool!  Can we sing “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo”?  I love that song!”

No … Blog.  Blogmother!  Try to focus.

Ow!  Hey!  You whacked me with your wand.  That wasn’t very nice.  And it hurt!

Oh, suck it up, you big baby!  I only have a minute.  I have 759 more disillusioned bloggers to visit tonight.

Wow!  That many?

Yes, and that’s just tonight.  Tomorrow I’m pulling a double shift to try to clear up the backlog a little.  You think you’re the only blogger who lives a bland, vapid, nugatory life?

Hey!  I’m standing right here!

Like I said, I’m a little pressed for time tonight.  I don’t have time to come up with euphemisms.

So how does this work?  Are you going to cast a spell on me or something?  Make me interesting?  Make my life glamorous and fascinating?

Again, I am a fairy blogmother.  You keep confusing me with that other company that has a much bigger budget.  And that gives their employees benefits.

So … no magic?  I’m not suddenly going to be interesting?

Nope.

So … what?  Do I get like a pep talk or something?  Where you convince me that my life really is interesting and that I just need to look deeper inside myself?

No, I’m not going to lie to you.  You’re life is pretty dull. I was watching the tape to prepare for this visit and I nodded off three times.  One time I even hit my head on the monitor.

So I guess I’m at a loss as to what exactly you’re doing here.  No magic.  No pep talk.  What exactly does a fairly blogmother do?

You’re looking at it.  You got this fine post out of it.

What?  This?  This is all I get?

What did you have before I got here?

Good point.  So what’s the wand for then, if you don’t do magic?

This?  This isn’t a wand.  It’s a chopstick.  I was having chop suey before I got here, but I must have dropped the other one when I poofed.

Well, thank you fairy Blogmother.  I couldn’t have done this post without you.  I may never forgive you for that.

Think nothing of it.

Oh, don’t worry.  I won’t!

Hasta la vista, Baby.

Yeah … ciao.

I won’t be back.

Don’t let the door …

Poof!

Ah well … that’s that then.  It’s not as cool as a glass slipper … but it’s something.

 

 

 

 

 

Getting Around the Block

writer

Okay … stand back.  This could get ugly.  I must tell you of my secret shame.

I have been suffering from writer’s block for several days now.

(I’ll wait for the gasps to subside before continuing.   All done now?  Okay … fine.  Here we go then.)

I know that is nothing new to anyone here.  Everyone who calls themselves a writer suffers from it from time to time.  There are no less than 3,753,216,891 blog posts written about writer’s block.  The posts are written by people who are either suffering from it, who have recently recovered from it, who fear it, or who are just writing anything at all in an attempt to rid themselves of it.

Which begs the question:  Is there anything more boring than reading someone else’s post about writer’s block?  I think not.  If that’s true then that means I am boring you to tears right this very moment.

Perhaps that is my superpower.  I have the ability to bore people unconscious by talking about my writer’s block.  This could come into handy.  For instance, if there was a bank robbery in progress, I could sidle up to the miscreant and, speaking in a lilting tone so as to lower his guard, I could say, “Have I ever told you about the time I had writer’s block so bad that I couldn’t even write my name on a credit card receipt?”

By this time the malefactor would be sleeping soundly and I could pluck the zip gun or shiv (whichever he prefers) from his relaxed hand.  Someone would call the gendarmes.  Reporters would descend on me looking for a statement, etc etc etc.  You get the picture.

So see, writer’s block can be a good thing.  (This blog post notwithstanding.)

And make that 3,753,216,892 and counting.

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