I am working on my third book, but I just don’t feel it tonight. But I needed to write something…anything. I started a couple of things-short story-character sketch-whatever came to mind, but nothing really inspired me to continue , so here I am doing a bit of stream of thought writing. That normally clears my head enough to concentrate on my projects.
I have shared my habit of doing stream of thought with those who ask about my writing habits. I am told it was helpful to them also and I am glad for that. All I know is that I must write SOMETHING. Every single day, something pours from my brain-sometimes it is decent and begs to be expanded and worked on, while other times something comes out that is pure crap. That happens more than I would like to admit.
Speaking of crap, I recently looked through some notebooks from about 30 years ago. It is writing that I hope no one on this planet EVER sees. I don’t even know why I am keeping it except, perhaps, to show me how far I have come. Maybe it is to remind me what NOT to do. Maybe it is just that somewhere in there is a spark of an idea that, if handled properly, could be something to share. I don’t know. I just keep all those blasted notebooks.
I keep too much stuff, I think. I have kept every paper I wrote for every single class in college. Why am I keeping all those things? Ok, I have no papers from the algebra classes, but I was just pleased to pass those things without imploding. Math is NOT my thing. But I have several papers from my various psychology classes that I won’t ever part with because they not only came from a lot of research and they are subjects I want to remember, but they are also inspirations for characters to come.
Then there are my philosophy papers. I loved, loved LOVED philosophy. My professor and I had some wonderful exchanges. I admired him for his intelligence and his broad scope of interests which were shared in the class, but I also admired his willingness to accept ideas and philosophies with which he might not agree. In fact, he encouraged free thinking and abstract opinions. He encouraged thinking outside the norm and coming at a subject from a completely unusual perspective. I loved that about the class. I could think my own way. I could explain my thinking and my perspective and not feel I was being judged or graded for it.
Beyond that, of course, I dearly loved all my English classes-except, perhaps, the grammar part. I will never understand about diagramming sentences. I learned it all and passed the tests, but once the class was over, it all flew out of my head. I wonder why that is? Probably because, as I believe, our brains retain those things that interest us. That may be why I remember so many goofball trivia things-especially where history is concerned.
I suppose it just matters that we have interests, right? We all do. We have interests and passions that drive us…each to our own end. Maybe the trick is to realize what our own passion really is, then follow it. Do what is necessary to reach our own personal goals.
Ok, that is my ‘sermon’ and my stream of thought pile of nonsense. Try it sometime. It helps to clear the cobwebs. ~N~