I'm surprised that when March 24th comes around, I still feel a need to do something to mark my brother, Mike's, birthday. Mike was the oldest of our clan of nine, and he passed away at the too young age of 58. I think he might have gotten a kick out of this blog, if for no other reason than as an entrepreneur he had a keen feel for product marketing.
Mike was a young 58 when he died, and as is often the case with pancreatic cancer, it all happened so quickly. I wonder if he'd be surprised at the lasting impact his early death had on his brothers and sisters. Older brothers Pat and Tim both chose to retire at 62 because of it, and the family has turned everyone's 60th birthday into a celebration of significance.
When my Dad died, I felt awkward on birthdays and anniversaries, not knowing whether such milestones were good or bad for my Mom. I'm sorry I never asked her how she felt about that.
Losing a brother before old age had a chance to touch him gives me a different perspective on how to approach days like today. If my family thinks about me on my birthday when I'm gone, well, I think I'd like that. And if on my wedding anniversary, Katz finds a little joy in remembering a good partnership or my sons have the wherewithall to wish him a happy anniversary, I think it might make the day just a little better for him. I know it would for me.
So happy birthday, Mike. We miss you.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
Futzing
True crime writer Anthony Flacco, whose 2009 book The Road Out of Hell has received wide praise (http://www.anthonyflacco.com/), gave a nice presentation at the recent Eighth Annual Spring Writer's Festival at the University of Wisconsin - Milwaukee, where he encouraged us to "Write, rinse, repeat." A riff on the longstanding advice that every-day writing is a must for the successful writer, he encouraged us to write at least two pages every day, then review and revise those two pages the next day ("rinse") before turning out two more pages (repeat). The advice was sound and clever enough that three weeks later it comes to mind with ease.
I find it all very hard to do. The initial writing, of course, can be difficult to the point of pain. That part is bad enough, but every day when I get to Flacco's "rinse" step, I lose myself. I fondle the words I have strung together, juggle them, admire them, kill some quickly and some with long drawn out regret, resurrect a few then place them in Limbo at the bottom of the manuscript with hopes of using them again, somewhere, somehow. I am like a dog with a smelly bone, rolling around on this debris-pile of words I want to hold, to keep, marking them as mine, burying them for that time when they will be needed and be brilliant.
My Mom would have told me I was futzing, and she would have been right. The truth of the matter is, I enjoy reading what I wrote, and I enjoy reworking it. Is this true of all writers, or am I some freak? And why is it so much easier to "rinse" then it is to "write?" I need a cure for futzing. Can anyone out there help me move on?
I find it all very hard to do. The initial writing, of course, can be difficult to the point of pain. That part is bad enough, but every day when I get to Flacco's "rinse" step, I lose myself. I fondle the words I have strung together, juggle them, admire them, kill some quickly and some with long drawn out regret, resurrect a few then place them in Limbo at the bottom of the manuscript with hopes of using them again, somewhere, somehow. I am like a dog with a smelly bone, rolling around on this debris-pile of words I want to hold, to keep, marking them as mine, burying them for that time when they will be needed and be brilliant.
My Mom would have told me I was futzing, and she would have been right. The truth of the matter is, I enjoy reading what I wrote, and I enjoy reworking it. Is this true of all writers, or am I some freak? And why is it so much easier to "rinse" then it is to "write?" I need a cure for futzing. Can anyone out there help me move on?
Sunday, March 21, 2010
This Is Another Fine Mess You've Gotten Me Into, Ollie . . .
Blogging, day two, and I'm already in a pickle.
Promising to be funnier, more insightful, and pithy in my original posting seemed doable at the time, but now, not so much . . . I spent 15 minutes writing my profile so readers would know who I am, and I think whatever funny and insight I could muster may have landed there today. As for pithy . . . What the heck! Who aspires to be pithy? Pithy requires wrapping things up succinctly with some on-the-nose observation when what I was really hoping to talk about was the "rabid badger" and "bullet creased butt," 5 of the 10,000 words I have written for my book.
24 hours into this exercise I've realized two things: 1) It should have been It Was a Dark and Stormy Night not It Was a Cold and Stormy Night. This goes to show you that starting this blog was a sudden and perhaps capricious endeavor. And 2) My commitment to finishing my novel in a year's time occurred on the first day of spring, 2010. This means that next winter may be a longer, harsher, and colder winter for me than any Wisconsinite deserves, but come March 20, 2011, a bright and beautiful and commitment-less spring will be in my future.
How's that for pith?
Promising to be funnier, more insightful, and pithy in my original posting seemed doable at the time, but now, not so much . . . I spent 15 minutes writing my profile so readers would know who I am, and I think whatever funny and insight I could muster may have landed there today. As for pithy . . . What the heck! Who aspires to be pithy? Pithy requires wrapping things up succinctly with some on-the-nose observation when what I was really hoping to talk about was the "rabid badger" and "bullet creased butt," 5 of the 10,000 words I have written for my book.
24 hours into this exercise I've realized two things: 1) It should have been It Was a Dark and Stormy Night not It Was a Cold and Stormy Night. This goes to show you that starting this blog was a sudden and perhaps capricious endeavor. And 2) My commitment to finishing my novel in a year's time occurred on the first day of spring, 2010. This means that next winter may be a longer, harsher, and colder winter for me than any Wisconsinite deserves, but come March 20, 2011, a bright and beautiful and commitment-less spring will be in my future.
How's that for pith?
Saturday, March 20, 2010
I'm Blogging!
Who would have thunk . . .?
An hour ago, I was a blogging virgin, but here I am. My friend, Gretchen, my grammar guru and sensei, has led me astray and I am starting this new venture with her help!
10,000 words into my new book, I've decided a blog might just be the key to keep me on my toes and motivated. I am now accountable to the Internet for meeting my daily writing goal, which will lead me to a completed manuscript in a year's time.
Tomorrow I promise to be funnier, more insightful, and pithy. Tune in!
An hour ago, I was a blogging virgin, but here I am. My friend, Gretchen, my grammar guru and sensei, has led me astray and I am starting this new venture with her help!
10,000 words into my new book, I've decided a blog might just be the key to keep me on my toes and motivated. I am now accountable to the Internet for meeting my daily writing goal, which will lead me to a completed manuscript in a year's time.
Tomorrow I promise to be funnier, more insightful, and pithy. Tune in!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)