Blog Flakes and Compulsive Editing


So, my blog’s birthday came and went not too long ago. I didn’t mark its passing because I’ve been a flake about writing, which I’m sure makes orphan kittens cry.

If I believed in New Years resolutions, posting more on the blog again would be a good one. I know this is an issue a lot of writers in general struggle with. There are many tricks of the trade to deal with it. Blogging itself is really a trick to get you to write more. So, what’s trick to make you blog? Where will this trickiness all end?

The tricks to get oneself to wake up in the morning, the tricks to make oneself exercise, the tricks to get oneself out the door on time, conserve gas, eat right, get more done at work, stay organized, stay in touch with people, stay working on art…

I have several drafts of posts in my little WordPress CMS thingie. Keeping drafts might be the key to this. I don’t usually have enough time to write a post from beginning to end or edit to where I’m happy. Often I’m not even sure if it’s a post that ‘works’ for me. Being a draft takes the pressure off a bit. It allows random things so when you sit down to post, really all you have to do is sit down to edit something. That’s certainly not something I always feel like jumping up and doing, and sometimes I want to edit a piece of writing 6,000 times before putting it out there.


Compulsive editing is a big issue I have with longer story writing. I tend to want to reread what I’ve written so far before I go on to write more. If I reread I want to edit. This leads to me spending that time reserved for writing doing edits instead.

To work out compulsive editing I’ve been trying to write before rereads. If it doesn’t fit exactly right because I didn’t remember all of the details of the story so far, or what I decided to name a few characters, that can be worked out during editing time. We’re trying to make writing time for writing. What a concept.


It’s easier to write for me right now since I’m on vacation and doubly since I’m traveling. Many of my distractions are at home and in its place are inspirations as I’m exposed to what I don’t normally see every day. I think people tend to block things out as they get used to them. Most of our life then becomes routine, and thus blocked out. How does one maintain wonder and inspiration as their days are a series of blocks one doesn’t remember independently or distinguish from one another? Sometimes when a week of work goes by, and I try to remember the individual days and what happened, I come up pretty scarce.

It’s important to break your routine as uncomfortable as it is. Life churns and bubbles much more brilliantly even if the resulting boiling chaos can throw us off kilter.

So I’ll do my best to throw the kilter off and battle blog flakes, and let me know if any of you out there have the secret key to this business. I’d be interested to hear how other people deal with these things.

Dreams – Trick or Treat

I dream a lot- every night- more than once every night. I have nightmares frequently, and sometimes they’re so bad that upon waking it feels like I never slept. Sometimes they wake me up, or me shaking and gasping for air wakes me up. One night it’s one long dream, and others it’s channel flipping experience. Sometimes it’s the same dream repeating with different middles or endings. Sometimes I have a recurring dream I originally had years ago. Often I die in my dreams. Sometimes I die more than once (probably from growing up with a ‘multiple guys’ video game concept). Often it’s violent and on purpose. There are times I know I’m dreaming. I can control the dream after realizing I’m dreaming, or I wake up. I dream I’m me, someone I know, a character, a third person disembodied watcher, and I even occasionally play more than one character in my dream (switching from time to time). I fly, lose my teeth, go to school naked, save the world, meet aliens, forget my locker combination, run away from infested humans, make love, eat brownies, turn blue, and more.

I dream, and then I spend all morning trying to forget about the bits and pieces that stick with me. Sometimes I write or type them down.

—–

It’s Halloween and all I want to do is go trick or treating, but my pillow case is empty and I’m going through the arcade first. On Halloween you get candy from games too, but sometimes it’s hard waiting your turn to get on some of the machines. I’m excited, and I’m here with friends laughing, moving from roped-off machine to machine. I put my bag near the coin slot where candy will come out if I score high enough. The lights are dim and tinted green and red. Fake cobwebs adorn the place. The place is set up like an arcade maze, machines against machines in zig-zagging patterns.

We have to leave (don’t remember why). We’re driving to find houses to trick or treat at, but there aren’t any. There’s just empty roads and countryside. We found a lone house on top of a hill, but they had no candy, only water and a bathroom. None of us know how to drive in the dream, but we do anyways because we want to trick or treat. I wish we could have just stayed at the arcade. One of my friends broke their arm because one of us drove so badly. There was no accident, they just got one from being in the van while it was swerving and stopping sharply.

I didn’t want anything to do with the bad driving, so I left, walking to the center of town. There was a club/bar with two floors and a patio in the back. It was open and packed. The tables were round and everything was wooden and stained- the tables, floor, walls, bar- and there weren’t any decorations unless you count the umbrellaed patio furniture outside. In this dream I’m not old enough to drink (even though I am) but I get served anyways. An old couple looks at me accusingly. I go outside to the patio with the Christmas lights because it’s so crowded inside and my dad was in there being loud and embarrassing. I tried to tell him about the lack of houses, but he didn’t care about my trick or treat woes. On the patio I found my friend with the broken arm. He had a green cast. He sat on the stairs outside alone. The night was clear and crisp. We breathed fog and looked at the moon.