Were I to relate this blog to a child, I’d say I came through the “what should I call her” phase and the “she’s going to be a doctor or an astronaut one day” phase, and then I just sat around and stared at her for a while.  Now I’ve got to get her reading so she can get into the proper potty-training group.  I’ll come back to the metaphor when I figure out where it’s going.

My family and I took a trip last week and on the second of three bazillion-hour flights I wrote a long piece about the universe and its love affair with my dissatisfaction. When I find the notebook, I’ll post some version of the piece, but in summary, no matter where I go, I have a notebook with me.  I have taken this to mean that I am a “writer” because I don’t see other non-writer folk scribbling in notebooks on planes. But, I’ve come to realize that all it really means is that I think that it makes me a writer – there is no proof that it actually does.

Not that I do it purposefully – I take a notebook with me because I know I’ll want to write – but I think the universe makes me want to take a notebook with me everywhere because it knows this is how it keeps me strung out on the “possibility” of writing, without ever actually providing the “opportunity.”  Here ends Jay’s incredibly screwed up view of the world.

I think the child/blog metaphor means that initially I had big hopes and dreams for this blog and the mental pursuit of those hopes and dreams was keeping me from realizing the blog’s innate ability to bring joy.  So, I think today I’m just playing memory with the kid and re-discovering what it means to create and take pleasure in one’s creations. Although, feel free to come up with your own interpretation.

So, there you go.  To read more articles like this, go to  http://www.holycrapdudethisiscompletelypointless.com

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The Fantasy

When I write, it is always exactly what I wanted to say, exactly how I wanted to say it. When I am in the zone, I am so on fire that everything pouring out of me is perfection and there is no possible way that anyone could ever improve it.

The Reality

The odd thing, though, is that when I go back to read a presumably perfect piece of prose, I find something that I could have worded better, I find a preposition where one ought not to live, or I find a “be” verb dangling out there all passive and boring. In other words, I’ve never actually written anything perfectly the first time.

The Payoff

I hate the rewrite like I hate paying taxes or washing the dishes. But, I take pleasure in a clean kitchen, I prefer not going to jail, and I treasure the quality of writing that comes from reviewing something I’ve written. The effort, the pain and the mind-numbing feeling that I’ve read all of it before are worth it.

The Realization

In her book Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott talks about the “Sh*tty first draft.” When I first read the book, I thought she meant that I should just write out the first draft without worrying about it. At the time I was struggling to get anything out because I’d just taken a writing class where I learned that my writing was horrible, and even if it were passable it wouldn’t matter because nothing mattered, none of us would ever be writers and we were all going to die soon anyway. (The teacher was a little down that semester I think.) The concept of the bad first draft helped me push through the feeling that I needed to perfect every word and sentence as I wrote it and I started writing in earnest again. (Thanks Anne.)

But, now that I see it from the other side, I realize that because I am not pausing at every period to make sure I kept my audience in mind during that last prepositional phrase, or ensuring that I didn’t just type “form” instead of “from,” I may occasionally make a mistake or two. (Usually more than two.)

The Example

For instance, today I wrote a piece about odd things turning up in my Google Image searches. When I reviewed it, I noticed that I wrote “Entertainment Industry” instead of “Entertainment Company.” The former is just in my head and the second word naturally follows the first. It feels odd to say “Entertainment Company,” yet that is what I was actually talking about. Without the review process, I would have missed that, and people might have mistaken me for an idiot.

The Question

The re-write is especially hard for bloggers. I’ve just written something that I think is brilliant, and I want to post it. Chances are, it’s pretty good – I did write it, after all. So, should I just throw it up and hope for the best? Sometimes I think yes, and sometimes I think no.

The Answer

Usually when I think “just post it,” it is because I don’t want to re-write. It is at those times when I do my little writer pep-talk.

Who is your favorite writer? You are, right? So, you are reading the latest piece of brilliance from your favorite writer – before the rest of the world even knows it exists. This is exciting – so keep going.

I typically edit a piece until I can go through it twice without changing anything. I think that is a good rule of thumb. I’ve become almost good at self-editing, but occasionally I’ll look at a piece from a week ago and see a huge error. That is disheartening, though I’ve seen errors in books and magazines too, so I try to keep some perspective.

The End

If we were Brick Layers, or Glass Blowers, the stuff that we made would have to be perfect the first time, because we would not get a second chance with buildings or glass. But, we are fortunate enough to be writers, and our creations take time to perfect. So, I say, enjoy the freedom we have to mold and craft a good piece into a great piece. Yeah, it sort of takes the joy and immediacy out of a great idea, but the payoff comes in knowing that we’ve taken the time to build a masterpiece.

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We all know the standard “cure” for writer’s block is to just start writing, perhaps guided by a writing prompt that we found from a book or on the web. But, what if the problem is not material - we know what we want to say - or the inability to write - we are writing other things, just not the thing we want?  What if the problem is that our time is so taken up with other ventures to the point that we just don’t get the chance to sit down with a cup of tea and really write the thing we want to write?

I am experiencing that now - I have tons of things I want to include on this site, and I know they will come in time, but I want them to all be up today - right now.

I think this needs a new phrase - Writer’s Stumbling Block, or Writer’s Too Busy to Do His Thing.

Those are not super catchy. I’ll work on finding the perfect phrase. (Open to suggestions, of course.)

Hope you are having a great day

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Here is a little something I wrote about a box of books I found in the basement…

The sobering mundaneness of existence has come to rest heavily upon my already stooped and weary shoulders. Were I but a bird able to soar among the clouds, frolic within the treetops, dance in the moonlight without a care, only then would I know the joy that was life. Only then could I truly be free.

Of course, I’m talking about my job, which has of late made me realize what a joy it would be to follow elephants around with a shovel during a parade. Not that we get many elephant parades in Denver.

The saddest part of my current situation is that for whatever reason, I have all but abandoned any hope of ever writing for a living, or ever writing ever again at all, for that matter. The fact that I am sitting here now is encouraging, because it is much more than I’ve had recently, but I can tell it is not divinity guiding my fingers. Nay, it is out of responsibility that I come to you now, barely able to process my surroundings, in an effort to bare my soul for what could be the very last time.

But I’m not here to talk about me.

But, as long as we’re on the subject, something fascinating happened this evening. You remember back when you were 25-28 years old? (If you are younger than 25, just pretend your an old dude like me.) I do, and boy was I ready to take on the world. I’m not sure what happened between then and now, but I can tell you that it was nothing I was planning.

You see, I was searching for a Judy Bloom book in the basement this evening, with little success, when I opened a box of books that was buried under years of kids school work. I had not opened this box since before we moved out of our old house, some seven years ago.

I had a gigantic humongo flashback, and then a sort of sinking feeling. These were books that lived near my side of the bed for a long time. These were books about something that I used to believe in strongly – something that I wanted to make my life about. These books in an instant became the embodiment of a failed dream. The living breathing reminder that Jay wasn’t sane enough to do anything for long enough to make this happen.

I grabbed several of the books, pulled them tightly to my chest and ran up to my room. There, I spread the books out on the bed, and began to thumb through them. “The Complete Guide to Magazine Article Writing” has three of four sticky notes in random spots that are, at this point, quite meaningless. “Magazine Writing That Sells” doesn’t seem to have ever been opened. “Creative Non-Fiction” has some underlining and stuff, which is encouraging. I’ll share a quote.

“Good writing has a lyricism and a rhythm to it,” she says. “It’s very hard to put into words.”

I’m glad I underlined that passage. Two other unopened books are “Dos, Don’ts & Maybes of English Usage,” and “How to Write and Sell Children’s Picture Books.” I know the latter was a gift, I think from my Mother-In-Law, so I feel kinda bad that I never even cracked the spine. I think it went into storage right after my birthday. In 1998. The last book, one that I remember purchasing and reading and really believing in for a time was “Dare to be a Great Writer: 239 Keys to Powerful Fiction.” There is a piece of toilet paper between pages 18 and 19, indicating that I may have read to at least that point.

Why does any of this matter, you may ask? Because dude, this was my life when the girls were little and I was young and idealistic. I didn’t just have this idea in my head, I was actively pursuing this dream. Then all of these books went into storage because we moved in with my in-laws, then we were in a new house, and I quit my insanely good but frustrating corporate job to be a window cleaner, then I went through a string of pointless little mini-jobs, then I started on another degree, and the coaching and the lawn-mowing and the studying and the job-hunting all ran together to form the last 7 or 8 years.

I thought, for a time, that blogging was me keeping in touch with this dream. I thought that by blogging, at least I was writing, and that was the important part. But, a good solid year of blogging, and another good solid year of not blogging but wanting too, has done nothing for me. Nothing.

The discovery of this box brought to light the fact that I gave up. Either I re-prioritized or I just plain forgot about these books, this idea, this dream. Either way, dude, I’ve missed some years. Had I done this eight years ago, I might be really doing it now.

This was not supposed to be a delve into my psychosis, but it ended up being just that. The proverbial drugs have worn off, it would seem, and I am seeing clearly for the first time in a long time. I do not yet have the ability to focus on anything long enough to begin to re-pursue my writing thing, but at least now, after all these years, it is right here in the forefront again.

And, I am not saying that I have not been saying all along that I wanted to be a writer. What I am saying is that I had forgotten that it used to be my only passion, the only thing I really cared deeply about. That is what I have lost – the passion. Today, or at least this morning, writing had become something that I was ready to let go – something that was getting in the way of other things in my life. That is unbelievable to me right now.

So, thats where I am. This was supposed to be a humor article, but it aint. I still have to write one tonight, so please stay tuned.

Jay

(PS — as a bonus, I brought up two other books that were in the box — “The Winter of Our Discontent” and “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead.” The latter is one spectacular play upon which I have based many a character in my stuff that I have yet to get down on paper.)

(PSS — TWOOD has a bookmark between pages 60 and 61, but I think that’s where the lady at the bookstore put it. Still, give me points for having it near my bedside 8 years ago with the intent of reading it. Where does the time go??)

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I have finally decided what I am doing with my life.

OK, that’s not entirely true – but after some soul-searching I have figured out what to do with this site.

If you are accustomed to coming here to read my musings, then I urge you to go find them at Unfocused Content. That is where I now post all of my writing.

This site, henceforth, will focus entirely on the art of writing. If you are a writer, then please, read on.

Why Focus on Writing

I love to write – I find it therapeutic and rewarding. I love to talk to other people who love to write – so I thought perhaps this would be a good way to share my ideas and get some feedback from others.

I am excited about the new direction, and I hope you are too. Below is a list of the things I will focus on here. While compiling this list I made an interesting discovery. I am a writing snob, a little bit, but I think that some of the therapy and joy of writing transcends the idea of “good” writing. You can be a writer without having any desire for other people to ever read your writing. It brings up an interesting topic – which I included on the list.

But, I do believe that if you write something with the intent of others reading it – especially if you are giving “advice” or trying to persuade – then you should be held to some level of quality. So, when I say I’ll find and post examples of bad writing, I don’t mean I’ll make fun of regular people – not everyone has the desire or aptitude to be perfect all the time - but, I will poke some fun at the prose of the aforementioned people that I find amusing.

In general, I hope that this site will be a source of inspiration and a resource for all things writing-related. That is my dream anyway.

Items Open for Discussion

• Writing as therapy
• Blogging for fun
• Examples of horrendous writing from the internet
• Writing for others v. writing for yourself
• Odd avenues to getting published
• Writing creative Non-Fiction
• Creative Writing, in general
• Great books I’ve read
• Writers I Love
• Writing Prompts
• Writing Contests
• Places to write for money on the internet
• Places to write for free on the internet
• Plus many more…

Some Things I Don’t Think You Will See Here

• thank you messages to write in cards
• graffiti writing
• how to write a resume / resume writing (though, on occasion, maybe)
• chinese writing
• how to write a dirty letter (again though, maybe…)

I think that makes it pretty clear. I hope you’ll check back soon.

-Jay

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Some folks seem to still wander by the ol’ WJW from time to time, and you must be one of those folk. But, I’m making some monstrous changes to the site, and I’m afraid I’ve gone about it all wrong - sans the development server and the like, so for now, there is absolutely nothing here - it’s all gone and we start fresh.

So, in the next couple of days, I expect to have it back into shape, and then we’ll see what comes of it. For now, if you are looking for me, I am posting at Unfocused Content, so wander over there.

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