The Challenge of Plot

Plot is killing me. Or, rather, the lack of plot is killing me.

I suppose I can partly blame the great books I’ve read. I read Mieville and then look at my paper and wonder how I could possibly come up with something as deliciously weird as The City and the City, or as novel as Embassytown. Nevermind Murakami. It just doesn’t occur to me to mix talking cats, Johnny Walker, and the Colonel.

I wish it did.

My mind wants to twist that way. It willingly traipses along with writers who imaginate the stories that I love. But ask my mind to come up with a qool story on its own? It balks. Takes a nap. Starts thinking about dandelions.

And then my creative spirit  has to wash her hair. “Not tonight,” she told me last night. “I’m rather tired, and my big toe hurts.”

I am tired of this attitude. I don’t even think her big toe does hurt.

Here’s the rub: I KNOW I have it in me. Underneath this obsession for clean hair and mental naps lurks a dazzling writing warrior woman. She’s smart, and intellectually sexy. She’s clever. And she never, ever washes her hair.

Well…. except on Tuesdays.

Coming up next: So what am I doing about it?


The Obligatory “First Post” Post

Well, here it is. The obligatory “first post” post, which, I admit, is obligatory only because I imagine it must be. I haven’t read many first posts, and am, in fact, imitating what I imagine first posts must certainly be like.

Like this. Yes?

So hello, world. Nice to meet you. Or see you. Or, I suppose, to be truthful – nice to be seen.

Or not…. am I getting anywhere here?

The point is, no one is going to see this post for a long time. Out of the millions of blogs out there (millions, right?), I imagine it takes time and grit to get a good subscribership. But it would be nice if someday I had a few readers. Because that’s the point of The Blog.

Or this blog, at least.

The point: to be read.

You see, I want to write. And I do write, a lot. A lot of nothing, a lot of stream of consciousness psycho-journal-babble-blah. What I want to write, however, is something worth reading… which means I need someone to read it. And audience makes everything more…visceral. Yes?

And that is where you, currently imaginary and hopefully soon-to-be-realized reader, come in. Check me out. Maybe it’s already Someday and you’re reading this, and the other posts I’ll write (or have written… getting confusing….), and maybe when I retire I’ll have a nice little side business as a writer, so that I can still afford health insurance.

And a dog.

I’d like to have both.

And in honor of my snazzy new Blog Name, I’m going to attempt to include an image. I have, indeed, hugged this pencil.

I love the Ticonderoga. It's a quality squeeze.