A Good Imagination and a Pile of Junk

Despite the title, I’m not going to talk much about Penelope Trunk. I’m going to talk about me because this is my blog and that’s what I do here. It’s why I get the cookie and why I only have 6 readers after 7 years of blogging and one of them is my Mom (hi Mom.) The repercussions of that are not lost on me even a little. Frankly I think it’s funny. So will at least 3 of my 6 readers.

First of all, Penelope Trunk is an interesting person (how many times have you heard/read me say that) who writes a stellar blog called Penelope Trunk’s Brazen Careerist and you should all read it. Frankly you should read it despite the title. Not that the title is bad really, it’s just that it implies a more limited focus than I find there. Her writing is solid and well suited to the form. The information is useful and the commenting community tends to be far ahead of the curve. I may pick up her book later today or tomorrow. I’ll letcha know. (Hmm… Amazon reviewers butchered it. But then, if I listened to them I’d be reading star wars fan fiction, applying eye-liner and listening to Pink Floyd’s The Wall in the dark, so there’s that.)

What strikes me about it is what strikes me about several sites and blogs: They get me going about a topic. I usually start off writing some minuscule little comment. Then I look at it, before I hit post and say to myself… “self? Nobody’s gonna know what the hell that means.” Or some such thought and I end up getting a bit winded.  Now, it’s not necessarily to spectacular effect, that’s not my point.

So take the whole ADD distracto-mania thing about having attention misfires as someone tickles the gooey bits in my brain, impelling me to thought. Add that to this bizarre disease I have where I can only think efficiently while expressing what I’m thinking, then watching/listening to what comes out and you end up with exhaustive comments on other people’s blogs.

… and little else.

It’s the nature of things that I don’t seem to be able to find the spark of inspiration on my own. It’s something that comes at odd times and in bizarre otherly circumstances, effervescing from my head before I get to a pen.

But that’s all a lie of course. It’s blaming a lack of productivity on “Writer’s Block” as though writer’s block were anything other than “well… I don’t really wanna” which is all it is, wrapped up in that panicky tightness of breath and mood.

Truth is I really do NOT write well, and as such I don’t enjoy it very much. (Odd thing about being good at something, it makes other things distasteful quite out of proportion.) Now I know three or four people who will come down on me like the hammer of fucking Thor for saying so, and yes, I can compose the odd thought into words and string a couple sentences together. Sometimes I even do so with some efficacy. But I’m utterly lost when it comes to writing anything with any heft (read: cohesion) to it.

And twitter… Twitter doesn’t help at all. 140 character snippets of spleen venting goodness all set for relieving any pressure I happen to build up.

Q: Why don’t girls fart?
A: Because they’d have to stop talking long enough for the pressure to build up.

Twitter’s like that. The slightest impulse to blurt gets expressed, so rants never even get a chance to build up. So that’s another thing working against me.

The funny thing about all this is that if I can sneak up on myself I’m pretty good ad hoc.   If I get on a tear I tend to go pretty well, at least until I realize I’m going pretty well at which point I’m screwed.  So I thought about recording spoken-word rants then transcribing them to see if the pressure of being in front of a keyboard was helpful.  Fortunately no copies exist and the less said about THOSE efforts the better.

What I really need is practice. A teacher? I’ve thought about that, taking classes and such. But for me to take a writing class I’d have to want to learn from the teacher (in particular.) The process of vetting writing teachers is utterly distasteful. I wouldn’t know where to start and my utter disdain for people I don’t respect would, well… It would get in the way. (Don’t worry, I respect more people than you think.)

In short (heh) I’m really most productive when I’m productive and lately I’ve been remarkably unproductive, so nothing’s been getting done.

But yeah, go read Penelope Trunk’s site.  Your head won’t hurt as much afterward.