For Wont of a Nice Notepad and a Wide-Armed Chair Instead of a Desk

I recently read somewhere that there just might be studies around showing that writers create differently depending on whether they are typing or writing by hand. 

Our trusty computers.  Oh, how we have become dependent upon them.  I catch myself marveling at the speed with which my fingers have come to fly over the keyboard. I delight in, that with just a few strokes, I can quickly change a thought, erase a typo or correct a grammar error.

I am quick to turn to an online dictionary or thesaurus. I think their ready availability is a boon to my writing.

Or, is it?

Now, with thoughts of some unknown study results sneaking into my consciousness, I wonder: have I forgotten how to write freely, never worrying about mistakes, not tempted to research a substitute word?

I don’t know. However, I think I just might try my own non-scientific study. Perhaps I’ll do some writing by hand, either with real work assignments or practice exercises or maybe both.  After all, Laura Ingles Wilder wrote the “Little House” series by hand in pads of paper she balanced on the extra-wide wood arms of the chair Almonzo made for her.  A chair specifically for her writing.  A chair I now covet.

I may share my different samples with my readers and let them judge whether I create differently.

Of course, I will have to type them first.

And, darn, I’d be lying if I didn’t say such a two-step process seems like a waste of time.

I wonder, is there a study

The Scoring May Be Jacked ... But I Still Like It!

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Evolution.  Progress.  Modernization.  The beat may go on and on, but it certainly does change over time. 

According to those in the know, at least around these parts, marching band is not the animal I remember.  In fact, as nearly as I can tell, it might not even be the same species any more. 

Who knew?

I learned some interesting, interesting things today.

•Marching band field shows are competitive OR they are crowd friendly.  They cannot be both.  Crowds at football games don’t appreciate competitive field shows.

•Competitive marching bands don’t adequately support the Friday night football experience, which is specifically what a marching band should do.

•Marching band competitions provide little value or meaningful feedback. The scoring is jacked.

•The reason high school band directors don’t have long careers is because marching band sucks the life out of them.

•You can buy a show entire field show in a box for $200.  That’s what normal bands do. Freakishly winning-obsessed bands? They pay thousands upon thousands of dollars for their show and each piece … drum book, ensemble book, field show design … comes separately and will break the bank. 

•Winning marching bands practice obsessively to the exclusion of all else.  To win, a band must practice way, way, way more than non-winning bands.  In fact, competitive classes at competitions should be broken down by how much bands practice, not by band size, not by school size. 

•If trombones are God’s instrument, then the saxophone is the bubonic-plague-carrying rat poo on the bottom of the devil’s shoe … or worse.

•Concert band is the single most important thing a high school band can do.  Period. End of discussion.

•Indiana and Texas are the best states for marching band.

•Many students are not familiar with Bands of America.  No matter.  It’s not all it’s cracked up to be any way.  Band students don’t need exposure to BoA because it has a marching focus and a competitive nature.   Refer to the concert band point as well as the point about the lack of value in marching competition.

•High school band directors have to be unbiased, never favoring one component of their program over the other.

•Winning high school marching bands have a large staff.  Drawing upon volunteers – usually former band members – isn’t always possible.  Or, if possible, it might not be wanted.

•High school marching bands can have directors who never, ever marched.

Clearly, things have changed dramatically over the years.

Or, have they? 

Call me a skeptic, but I’m not convinced.  In fact, I am so much not convinced that I think I’ve found my book.   I had a mission when I started this research project, but now I think I have two.  And, a point to make.

My hackles are up.  How did I forget that … at heart … I am a marching band girl? Although I might have forgotten that tidbit, other matters have not slipped my mind. I still don’t suffer excuses well. 

Perhaps that is just where my growing need to write a book comes in. Thank goodness I’m not a high school band director.  I can … and will … be as biased as I want.

Oh … and to my fellow marching band alumni.  If you are reading this, I know your hackles are up now, too.  You are welcome.  

Band, ten-hut!

Yes, An Imagination CAN Be Too Good

Every story needs a good villain. Or, if not a truly detestable villain, then at least a quality, easy-to-hate protagonist.  Every story needs a plot. After all, there must be a problem to overcome. 

Then why do I feel guilty trying to research the one bit of my story idea that will give it depth and make it a story with truly broader appeal?

I want to know more about poison, the kind of poison that works gradually over time with repeated but small exposure.  I have a computer.  I have a great Internet service provider.  I have time.  What I lack, apparently, is courage.

The issue? Yes, I am chicken. And, I have a more vivid imagination than I realized. And, I like to read thrillers. 

Who knew I would be scared to research poisons? Clearly, I’ve read too many who-done-it books where the protagonist – the hero, the good guy – runs into trouble and is framed for a crime he didn’t commit.    You know the scenario because you’ve already ready the book: a thriller in which a writer researching something for a magazine article like … oh, I don’t know… poison! … has his browser’s search history used against him when he’s framed by his wife for attempted murder.

Hmmm.   Maybe a romance would be easier after all.  

Self Care - Different Strokes for Different Folks

I keep my Facebook accounts open as background to my daily work.  For me, that’s a mental health necessity. I’m literally tied to my computer most days any way. Without FB in the background, I can go all day without any type of social interaction, which makes me C-R-A-Z-Y … or at least crazier than normal.

Even super busy, my mind works a million miles a minute so little nuggets seep into my head from ye old social networking site even when I’m not paying attention as I pound out 5 or 6 or 7 press releases and articles a day.

Recently, the following gem from among the comments on a friend’s post stuck in my head:

“The prevalence of flu and illness is all the more reason everyone should make rest and self-care a priority.”

That ditty has now combined with another gem that caught me eye recently:

“It’s January ‘x’ (insert a date). Take down your Christmas decorations, people.”

I know.  Those things don’t seem to have much in common.  How on earth do I make a connection?

Simple ….

WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE?  Am I the only person who marvels at the time others seems to have?  Time to post routinely on FB, more than a super quick “like”? Time to exercise, eat right, drink plenty of water and rest?  Shoot, I don’t even remember the last time that 6 hours wasn’t the very maximum amount of time I had for sleep.  That’s as well-rested as I can get. And, usually, I’m not even that well rested.

And Christmas decorations?   It’s January NOT July.  Seriously, if you’ve got time on your hands to worry about someone else’s holiday decorations, please, come on over.  You can deal with my piles of holiday ornaments, fripperies and frills waiting to be boxed and put away.  Me … I have to work and then run kids and then care for show horses.  Not to mention writing a blog nearly daily so that maybe, just maybe, I can keep one of my new year’s resolutions for 2013.

Am guessing I’ll fail. Maybe I should have made my resolution not to worry about when others take down their holiday decorations. That one, I could keep!

Scatter Drills

I’m not a doctor, but I often play one in my head.  My latest diagnosis? Cleaning and organizational AD/HD.  That’s my non-clinical, unprofessional diagnosis for a particular neuroses that plagues me.

I know I am not alone.  Please, tell me I am not alone.

I start to do “x”.  In order to finish “x”, I realize “b” is in the way.  To deal with “b”, first have to handle “1a”.  In taking are of “1a”, I discover than “#42” didn’t happen and is now past due.

Wait… now the dog has to go out.

What was I doing?  Oh, yes: “x”.   Did I finish “#42”? Yes, but “1a” is not complete.   I finish it and go back to “x.”  Wow, I still have to do 1, 2 & 3 for “x.” It surely is time consuming. 

Now it’s time for dinner.  But, it’s getting dark so I should go out and take care of the outside chores and barn work immediately.  Shoot, forgot to ask hubby to fill the water tank. Guess I will haul water from the house. That doesn’t make chores take twice as long or anything.

Chores accomplished.  Start dinner.  Get sidetracked by a message for something urgent that needs my immediate attention. Realize my phone case is shattered. When did that happen?

What is that I smell burning?

Dinner done.  Ignore the dishes and hope one of the other 3 people in this house will see to them.

What was I doing?

“X”!

“x”?

What in the name of God was “x”?

Did I mention I still need to take down and put away our Christmas decorations?

I need a drink.  A margarita sounds good.

I think I need strawberries…..

Elephant in the Room - A Comfy One at That

There is a refrigerator in the other room. While it’s not calling my name at the moment, I’m pretty sure the couch in front of the warm woodstove is.  I hear it hailing me, calling for my immediate presence.  The sun is shining in the big picture window.  I could contentedly curl up like a cat … while away an afternoon reading a book in the warmth and the sunlight.  

Reading a book.  That qualifies as research, right?  Reading professionally crafted and commercially printed prose would surely, in the end, help me as I craft my own, right?

Darned those pesky New Year’s resolutions.  I resolved to limit my relationship with my couch in an effort to boost productivity… which I desparately need because I’ve got a deadline for two dozen super low-paying articles on a subject I care nothing about (and know even less about) breathing down my neck.

Does my couch miss me?

I know I miss it.

#6 - 1/6/2013 

The Steady Beat of Maybe, Maybe, Maybe, Maybe

Do what you love, and the money will follow.  We’ve all heard that well-worn adage dozens of times. But, I’ve got questions.  How far behind is the money following?  Is it on an alternative path?  Does it have a map?  How about a GPS? Does it need my address? Is it in pesos? Confederate dollars? What?

Just wondering.

I have been writing for more than 15 years. I am tired of being poor.  Perhaps I should reduce what I am giving away.

Or, maybe I should finally write a book.   

Maybe I should have done it years ago. Today, everyone is a writer.  Just ask them.  Still, most folks don’t know how to properly create the plural of their own names and, more often than not, they lazily substitute “your” when they mean “you’re.”

Maybe I should start a social media page about that.

Maybe I should write a book.

Maybe I should blog about the negative impact the proliferation of electronic media has had on punctuation and the proper use of pronouns versus contractions.

Maybe I should write a book.  One about something for which I am passionate.  Okay, well, maybe at least interested in.

Maybe I should offer to coach and edit for folks for free.  Wait.  I already do that. Certainly, no money is following that.  And, not gonna lie … I HATE IT!

Maybe I should write a book.  Maybe, just maybe.

Maybe someone will take exception if the book in my head morphs into words on paper.

Maybe I shouldn’t care.

I wonder if anyone will buy it?

I just hope they won’t pay with Monopoly money … or the Greek drachma.

--> #5 – 1/5/2013  

Tools for Marking Time & Charting Course

Do you keep a journal nearby, readily available when you want … no need … to jot something down?  You should.   Otherwise, if you are like me, it is not possible to remember every great idea, pithy turn of phrase, witty observation or critical “to do” list addition that pops into – and then out of - your head. Without documentation, those important yet fleeting thoughts have a way of disappearing like Alice down the rabbit hole: in your head somewhere, but lost in the colorful, hazy, obscure reaches of your mind. 

Or, do you carry a planner to quickly note the dates and deadlines that pile up in your head?

I do.  Well, I should.  Sifting out the flotsam of deadlines, events and must-do activities frees up more space for creative thinking.  Well, that’s my theory any way, one I should put into practice.  I have a planner.  Trouble is, I routinely move my planner-cum-calendar.  Is it on my desk?  In my purse? In my briefcase? In my vehicle?

This year, I’m going to keep better track of my planning calendar.  Just as soon as find the slippery creature.

Same goes for a journal.  I will get one.  And, I will use it. 

Just yesterday, I stood in the local variety store pondering which notebook or diary would work best.  Do I get multiple small ones for the various things I want to keep track of?  Would a notebook small enough to fit into my purse yet featuring multiple pages and dividers work?  Like many writers, I coveted something with a leather cover, with thick, quality paper and without a spiral binding.  Of course, as often as I misplace my journal and as often as my purse is home to pounds of detritus … napkins to medicines to food to just about anything that can accompany the words, “Here, Mom, hold this will ya?” … splurging on a beautiful diary is probably wasteful at best and insane at worst.

So, I left my neighborhood retailer without a new notebook and continued my errands.  Of course, as I zipped from the post office to the pharmacy and beyond, I noted a millions things I simply MUST remember … blog ideas, research points for a project, things to tell people, items to enter into my planner (which still hasn’t made its way back into my purse.).

Of course, I was without a journal. After all, I couldn’t purchase THE perfect one at my local store. 

So, I did what I always do, scratching down barely legible notes on my go-to documentation material: the fast food napkin.

Now, if I can only find where I put the damned thing!

Ignoring All the Good Blogging Advice

There is plenty advice online about blogging, starting a blog, branding your blog, finding a niche for your blog, attracting readers and more.  God knows there are plenty of blogs about blogging! 

Trouble is, right now I want to write. I don’t want to be a business person figuring out strategy.  I’m writing for myself now.  I just want to use my writing as the way itself to determine my brand and find my niche.  I can’t worry about my audience just yet.  And, let me tell you, all of that violates all kinds of advice lists on blogs about blogging!

Sure, I have things I’m passionate about.  Or, at least I was passionate about.  Or, thought I was passionate about. Or, maybe wonder if I ought to be passionate about. That’s not to mention all the things OTHERS assume I either am or should be passionate about.

Mostly, I’m just confused. 

What’s my niche?  I don’t know just yet.  I love to write, but I certainly do not think I am one to give advice about it.  And, I might not be good at it given how poorly I do with all of the "hey coulda look at this letter/essay/resume/application requests" I get.  Those?  Mostly I just want to rewrite.

Society show horses, their history and their competitions have consumed my life for years.  My former strong interest in marching bands and drum corps is on the upswing in my life right now for a number of very divergent reasons.  

If I can figure out how to do it, any blog that mostly combines horses and horse show history with marching bands and marching band history … well, I’d say that I would have that little unique niche all to myself.

#3 - 1/3/2013

The March of Time Is No Excuse

“Focus on a passion, not the passing of days.”  That was a bit of advice from a Monster.com article for job seekers that I recently edited for use in a major newspaper … a minor assignment with even more minor pay. 

Most days my life seems stuck in the minors … minor league, second-string, nonessential.  I’m paralyzed with too many tasks, assignments, “hey, could yous” that are minor in every way but the amount of time they consume. 

I am often stymied by the feeling that life might accidentally have already passed me by. That the major league is out of my reach now. 

Focus on a passion, not the passing of days. That quote sent me searching.  There are plenty of writers who didn’t hit their strides as writers until their late 30s, throughout their 40s or into their 50s.  Laura Ingalls Wilder is one of the most famous. I loved “Angela’s Ashes” but Frank McCourt didn’t publish it until he was in his 60s.  Michener was 40 when his first book was published.   Richard Adams didn’t publish “Watership Down” until he was in his early 50s.

Like most of these individuals, I have years of writing, editing or other related experience.  I’m not embarking on a writing career late in life.  I’m simply starting down a new writing path.

I’ve watched from a distance as a vague acquaintance of mine – similar in age  — has pursued this same path. Is her achievement enough to goad me on? To propel me to shoot for something more major?

Looking for more encouragement, I found that articles about older entrepreneurs abound. Turns out, entrepreneurs beyond the age of 35 have recently been accounting for 80% of new business start ups.  The stats on the growth and success rates of these “gray” businesses are more than encouraging.  Seems like the mature entrepreneurs have much greater success than their younger counterparts.

So there it is.  Age is not a reason.  It’s an excuse.

Guess I’m officially running thin on excuses.

More importantly, turn outs … I’m in pretty good company.


#2 - 1/2/2013 

A Beat Gone Missing

1/1/2013 ~ #1

My life is out of step. Cadences flit through my head.  Some are distant memories; some, fragments of former hopes; some, memories bubbling up from the past; some, shards of broken dreams. Too often, the cadence resembles only painful throbbing as I am crushed by the interminable tasks of a mundane life.

I need to make that slight skip and put myself back in step. But first, I must find my cadence.

Cadence ….

The rhythmic flow of sounds or words.

Cadence ….

The beat of any rhythmic movement.

Cadence…

The flow or rhythm of life and experience.

Early in my life as a budding writer, the word cadence was clear to me.  It was the beat laid down by the drumline in my high school’s powerhouse marching band. Loud.  Sure. Defining.  It was the direction of strong leadership.  It was the promise of tomorrow. It was also the desire to leave, to move on.  It was made strong by the need to take flight.

Strong cadences kept me moving forward … out of school … into adulthood.

Those strong cadences, however, faded away, replaced by the ever-changing yet stiflingly similar patterns of life. College, career, marriage, kids, church, after-school activities, volunteer work, accidents, economic downturns … the conflicting melodies of life… all beating a tattoo. Together, they were marching me forward at light speed while simultaneously grinding me down at a snail’s pace.

Word’s were always the instrument that propelled me forward. They were my personal rhythm, and I used them for years within a world that moved with its own strong two- and four-beat gaits. Then… the tempo of my life faltered, changed direction, stopped.  Still, the rhythms of that world call to me.  But with forced distance, I can now hear a different, albeit distant, drum.  In fact, I hear several.

What cadence will propel me forward?  Will I continue to move in repeated step, taking direction from nothing more than an old, wrinkled, faded and out of date chart?  Or, will an entirely different rhythm set me on a new course?

I’m out of step. But, I know it now.  I feel that little skip starting to break through.  Will there be an about face or a flank?  Where will the steps lead?

The only thing I know for sure: words will be the cadence that smooths whatever move I make.