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Tag Archives: Truman Capote

That’s Not Writing on Monstrous Monday

Now I remember why I so often have Monstrous Monday.  I am TIRED on Mondays!  And I want to make my blog post quickly and watch Dateline on OWN.

Nobody does. What am I complaining about?

All day at work today I thought about writing.  At least, throughout the day, off and on, I thought about writing.  I thought about writing my blog post.  I thought about writing the next murder mystery.  I thought about writing my next article for Mohawk Valley Living magazine.  I thought about writing a novel.  That last was more of a vague thought; for the others I actually formed words in my head I intended to put on paper.  However, as the writing books so helpfully point out, thinking about writing is not writing.

When it came time for break, the only thing I could manage was a few jottings in the food journal I am keeping this month.  I am writing down everything I eat, any exercise I get, and when I get a headache or feel light-headed.  I hope to do it for a month and look for patterns.  Being me, it is more likely that I will (a) forget to write things (b) lose the journal (c) get tired of the whole thing (d) start adding all kinds of commentary, thus obscuring the information and losing the purpose (e) any or all of the above.  But that is strictly by the way.  The point is: I am not writing enough.  Bad writer!  Get to work!

But… DATELINE!!!

Will I tear myself away from the television?  Will I continue to watch Dateline (full disclosure:  I have been giving it half an eye while I type this post) (as Truman Capote once said, this isn’t writing, it’s typing)?  Will I attempt to write WHILE watching Dateline?  A little uncertainty adds spice to my evening.  In the meantime, I think I need one more picture of a monster if this is to count as a Monstrous Monday.

 

“Are you going to write, or do I have to get tough?”

 

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With a Laptop on my Knee

OK, I’m sitting here with the laptop on my lap (I know, where else would it be?  Well, it MIGHT be somewhere else; I’m not here to discuss the possible whereabouts of computers), and once again, I got nuthin’ (or is it “nuttin'”?  I like “nuthin'”) (which is not the same thing as not liking anything, but close).

Where was I?  Ah yes, Wrist to Forehead Sunday.  I tell you, I am down.  I’m not a writer.  I write a silly blog, and, as Truman Capote once said, “That’s not writing, that’s typing.”  Yes, yes, I must stop with the existential crisis, people will think I am merely fishing for encouragement.   I am only being honest, in this case.  Oh, sometimes I fish for encouragement or even compliments, never fear.  Hell, I’m not perfect.  I’m a factory worker who takes pen in hand or keyboard under fingers occasionally and words come out.  Good words?  Useful words?  Entertaining words?  One can only hope.

I have been trying to take another step towards reaching my writing goals, and I have had little to no success. I know, lift your feet a little higher, push them forward a little more, these things are under our own control if only we would accept responsibility.  Very well then, I shall accept responsibility.  Tomorrow, or possibly later tonight, I will work on the novel I found earlier today.  Ooh, that’s right, I did do one thing today:  I found the notebook I’ve been looking for where I had started a novel I thought I would like to finish. It’s a baby step, but it is a step.  I shall make further updates as events warrant.

In the meantime, it is Wrist to Forehead Sunday, the day I try to enjoy myself with my husband and not think about returning to work tomorrow (I’ll work on curing the Monday to Friday Malaise another time, did I mention I’m not perfect?).  We were watching Halloween movies earlier.  I wonder if we could watch another one now. No, I can’t work on that novel now, time with husband, remember?  I may or may not ever become a successful novelist, but if I take care to spend time with my husband I WILL have a good marriage.  Priorities, people.

 

No, I’m Not Going to Act and Type!

I tried that before.  Shit happens, as we all know, then I don’t type at all. And as Truman Capote once said, “That’s not writing, that’s typing.”

Where was I?  Ah yes, about to make an especially Lame Friday Post before I go back to either frantically chopping vegetables or thrusting my hot-flashing body into pantyhose (sorry if that gives you an unfortunate mental image)  (not real sorry) (OK, not sorry at all, ha ha on you!).  I’m thinking, this is actually a Flustered Friday post.  You’ll have that when you’re in a play.

And here they are: my acting friends!

Yes, I’ve shared this picture before.  It is one of my favorites.   I actually think it is kind of good I am so flustered, or I might begin to become melancholy.  This will be my last performance with a cast I have grown very fond of.  As I observed before in this space: not a stinker amongst them, and none of them seems to mind that I am kind of a stinker myself (not literally, mind you, it’s an EXPRESSION, don’t be so didactic!) (you know who you are).

As regular readers may remember, tonight LiFT Theatre Company will perform The Tempest at a dinner theatre at Herkimer Elks Lodge.  Who knew the Elks were so cultured?  They were a great audience last year for Much Ado About Nothing, so we have all been looking forward to this performance.  For another reason, it is indoors.  No worries about rain and it is just a little bit easier to make ourselves heard.

I have been saying my lines all day at work, sometimes to suitably impressed co-workers.  There is nothing to do now but get into costume and remember to breathe (which is not as easy as it may sound) (either one).  And hit Publish, because, lame as this may be, it is my Friday post. Have a wonderful evening, everyone.

 

 

Typing… About… Writing…

Must… get… blog… post… written.

You know, like in the comic books?  I don’t read a lot of comic books, but I know there is often a frame with the hero going through something dire and saying he must… do… something…  I find that perfectly appropriate for Wrist to Forehead Sunday.

I truly am feeling very wrist to foreheady this afternoon.  For anyone just tuning in, wrist to forehead refers to the old timey heroines about to swoon.  I stole the expression “wrist to forehead” from a former co-worker.  I think I made the pose and she said, “It’s a wrist to forehead situation.”  I know I have explained this before, so my apologies to longtime readers for being redundant.

The reason for my current angst is that I am having the damnedest time writing.  Yesterday I managed six post cards and a blog post.  I have other things to write!  What the blankety-blank is my problem?  I know, I know, I have to just sit down and bloody well do it.  Well, I am.  The first thing I have to write is today’s blog post.  And here I am, typing away at it (as Truman Capote famously said, and as I have previously quoted, “That’s not writing, that’s typing”).

And I see I am over 200 words.  That is all I require of myself for a blog post.  Self-indulgent, you say?  That could be.  Then again, I am not burdening my readers with too long of a post.  I don’t always read the really long posts myself.  Oh dear, any bloggers reading this who make really long posts might take offense at that.  Then again, you never know. Maybe I read all of THEIR posts, and it’s the BORING long posts I give up on.  I hope nobody has given up on me.  That would really be a wrist to forehead situation.

 

Typing on Tired Tuesday

I felt so tired yesterday, I was sure I would be less tired today, obviating the need for a Tired Tuesday post today.  I did write today.  I spent my breaks at work and some time after work composing my article for Mohawk Valley Living magazine.  It will be a good article.  I hope.  I’m letting it cool off before I re-read it.  At least, I guess it’s my brain that needs to cool off.  The actual article won’t change as it sits.

It is so interesting to me about my articles.  First I have to sit there thinking, “I can’t write this.  I am not able to write this.  Maybe I can write this later.  I can’t write this now.  Whatever will I do if I can’t write this?”  Then I put pen to paper and write it.  Sometimes I get to the second part fairly quickly.  This time I didn’t do too badly.

What I need to do now is apply the “put pen to paper and write” step to my other writing projects:  the banana play, my novel (which novel?  ANY novel!  Pick one I’ve started any time these last forty-odd years!) (um, yes, very odd years).  I keep thinking I am about to do just that, and something seems to stop me.  I’m afraid it is me.  That is rather an embarrassing admission, but it is empowering as well.  The problem is me?  Well, who controls me but ME?  Who can change me?  ME!

Only right now I’m too tired.

Ah, there is something to work on.  I feel sure I am able to write when I am tired.  It is just a matter of doing it.  Like, for example, right now. I am WRITING (actually typing) a foolish blog post (yes, as Truman Capote said, “that’s not writing, that’s typing;” insult me if you like, but acknowledge where you got the quote).  If I can write a foolish blog post when I am tired, no doubt I can write something else.  Maybe a non-foolish blog post?  Let’s not ask for miracles.  Especially on Tired Tuesday.

 

Too Tired to Type

All I want to do is make a Wuss-out Wednesday post and get my tired out body to bed.  I began to write something else earlier today.  I wanted something meaner than Wuss-out for my Wednesday, because I was in quite a dreadful mood.  All I could come up with was Worser Wednesday (isn’t “worser” a word?  I’ll be damned; I thought it was).  Oh, then I thought of Whiny Wednesday and Woebegone Wednesday, but neither seemed to capture my mood of the moment.  At this moment, I have no mood except being tired enough to burst into tears, although I feel I am unlikely to do any such thing.

I am far too tired to dig out the notebook containing the few paragraphs I wrote earlier.  For one reason, it took me an unreasonable amount of time to get onto WordPress tonight.  You know how computers are sometimes.  Oh, go ahead and make unkind remarks about Operator Error.  My whole life is operator error, dammit!  I ALREADY KNOW THAT!!

What I was thinking earlier, and it still applies, is that today should have been Tuesday.  Earlier it would have been Bad Attituesday.  Now it would be Tired Tuesday.  Therefore, I shall make a tired headline but nevertheless one with my beloved alliteration.  It is also a literary reference to Truman Capote, who famously said, “That’s not writing, that’s typing.”  I hope to see you all on Thursday.

 

Too Sick to Type Anything Good

I called in sick to work today, and I am taking a Bloggers’ Sick Day. On the one hand, you might think I would not have to. After all, I spent the day sleeping and trying to hydrate (a doctor told me the body can ride out many things if it just stays hydrated). One might think I would be feeling better enough to write something decent (wait a minute, would this be one of those hypothetical people we discussed yesterday? Never mind). It has often been observed, I can’t do anything about what other people think about me.

I am feeling marginally better. I woke up in the night with dreadful insomnia. After striving NOT to toss and turn for a couple of hours, my stomach started in. I’ll spare you a blow by blow of my sufferings, but it was bad. I am a HUGE baby when I am sick, and this was worse than my usual sinus, headache, light-headed things that I seem to spend so much time complaining about. One thing about intense nausea, when it finally goes away, I feel SO HAPPY! When the headache goes away, too, my life will be perfect.

Being sick makes for quite the boring day. Sleep felt good when I finally got some, but I couldn’t sleep all day. I read a little, but my head didn’t like that. I thought about turning on the TV but couldn’t quite make up my mind to (indecisiveness is often another symptom of these illnesses). I got on Facebook, but all I could think of was this other (terrible) job I had. A guy had called in sick, and the boss said, “But he was on Facebook this morning.” I was not even on Facebook at the time, but I remember thinking, “Oh, come on, to sit in front of the computer and maybe hit a few keys, you can do that with your head in your hands feeling awful. Getting stuff done at work, not so much.”

This morning, I wondered if any of my Facebook work friends would say, “She can’t be too sick; she was on Facebook.” So I made sure I posted how awful I was feeling. Then I felt guilty, because other people have far worse illnesses than mine (see above statement about me being a baby). Then I got off Facebook, because my head was hurting again.

My husband just looked over and said, “It sounds like you’re saying more than, ‘I’m taking a blogger’s sick day.'” Thus proving my point that you can type in dire circumstances. However, as the late, great Truman Capote once said, “That’s not writing, that’s typing.”