motivate me.

many creative types talk about inspiration. where they find it. how they wish they had some. what it prompts them to make and do.

inspiration, please. i have no lack of stimulating forces sparking my neurons and firing creative thoughts.

what i lack is motivation.

i've often longed for a technology that allows me to download thoughts, unaltered, into a word document and then rearrange them once they're on the page. this is a process i imagine would take about ten minutes or so, central prcessing unit happily humming away while my thoughts were converted into readable files and then opened with a double click. i'd never lose anything to laziness that way, forgetting what i wanted to write because i waited so long to get it down on paper. i suppose, though, that if such a technology existed we'd have bigger problems even than my lack of motivation, problems that involved computers being able to thoroughly probe the human mind.

anyway, it wouldn't really be writing, would it? writing is less about putting pen to paper than it is about losing yourself deep in thought, then looking at the clock and realizing an article you've yet to start is due in seven hours. you think a little bit more, this time about how much you hate writing and wish you'd chosen to be a lion tamer or a barista or anything but this. (you wonder if you could get your old job at the Gap back). the panic starts to rise again, this time coming from your stomach and flooding your brain: you can't do this, you'll embarrass yourself, you won't do this.

all the while, the article remains due at the same time it always has been, so you fight back the panic with promises of a nap once you're finished or a trip to the library or any bribe, really, that happens to work on that particular brand of panic. then you start, keystroke by keystroke, on the article.

query? part II

"And so, I think the idea is good, but needs more direction. I don't think the topic could stand on it's own without a stronger angle."
- An editor.

Yes, queries are difficult, but finally having the guts to query an editor only to receive an e-mail like this is down right terrifying. Support and assert my idea? I thought I would just send it to you and then sit back and listen to your profuse praise while you greenlight this article and any other fleeting idea I've ever considered fit for publication.

Now I'm wondering, am I really smart enough to do this? Do I have the level of intelligence necessary to connect this issue with any kind of insightful thought? Is my creativity a complete sham? Oh, the writer's mind. It is truly fraught with all kinds of anxiety and a touch of bipolar: the confident high I was riding after seeing my name in print last week, the despondent doubt I'm experiencing this morning.

So, you'll kindly excuse me for now. I'm off to fetch a cup of tea, close my eyes and inhale deeply, then hit "reply" and attempt to salvage this article.

query?

there are a lot of worst things about freelance journalism.  developing story ideas is the worst. convincing a subject to agree to an interview is the worst. writing interview questions is fun, but sometime conducting the actual interview is terrible. nerve wracking. the worst. querying editors is the worst.

no, really.

querying editors is the worst. 

i'm not sure what other profession combines mental strain and personal risk as completely as freelance writing does. it's like cultivating a rare and precious fruit in your backyard, ripening it to perfection, then finally plucking it and offering the first taste to a notoriously picky eater who has license to hurl the fruit across the room and watch as it splatters against the wall and slides sloppily to the floor. this is what i endure, myself and my little brainfruits.

every time i query an editor, i have to make a carefully-weighed decision: do i want to offer this apple to someone else, or would i like to eat it myself this time?

a poem is never finished, only abandoned.
~ paul valery (french critic and poet 1871-1945)

this is true about poetry, yes, but i think it is a universal statement about all art. i've never truly finished anything i've ever written, only gotten sick of working on it or declared it "good enough." sometimes things are done, but i believe there's a thin differentiation between done and finished. it is in that small place that most of my projects lie: no longer a work-in-progress, but always somehow needing a little more work.

when writing an article, i often have to call people to arrange interviews or sometimes to do the actual interview over the phone. this is normal. those people are my primary sources and without them, the article couldn't be written. i've probably done this somewhere around 200 times by now, i'd imagine, or maybe more.

there's always this internal struggle. i look up the number. i pause. my heart seizes up. i think of a million things i have to do before i can call the person. my laundry. clean my room. track down an image on a server somewhere. refresh my blog and look for comments. call my boss and ask him a question.

even after i do all of those things, i still have to call the person. no call, no article. i stare at the phone. i pick up the receiver. i put it back down. up. down. swallow. i dial the number. i dialed the wrong number. i hang up and dial the right number. those rings are always the hardest. i pray it goes to voicemail. it would be easier on me if an actual someone answered. but i always pray it goes to voicemail. i leave such good voicemails.

the actual someone actually picks up. i experience one more flash of panic, so tight and intense i think i might cry. then, from some quadrant in my brain, professionalism takes over. i hear my voice saying the right things, acting friendly. i hear my voice asking intelligent questions. i see that i've taken a few pointed notes. i'm joking, i'm laughing, i'm having a good time talking to this person i so desperately did not want to call.

i hang up, high on the kind of adrenaline that releases after you do something that you're good at, and you do it well.

i don't think i'll ever get over the panic, though, no matter how many times i do it. writer's panic. even joan didion had it.

concieve.create.repeat

today, i'm feeling so very creativ.e.
maybe it's the sunshine this morning after the
rain??

i just discovered the answer to a question i've had for months:
question: how to make over a lamp i found on the side of the road?
answer: scales. trust me.

also, how do you people feel about feather headpieces?
not really indian style.
i'm thinking more like zelda-fitzgerald-roaring-twenties-gin-martini-type feather headpieces.
do you think i could make these on my own?? (i'm not afraid to try).

other things on the list: pumpkin carving, halloween costume, decorating the house to look like a spooky mansion...
i can't wait.

do you ever have that funny feeling where your brain suddenly unlocks an idea that it had been holding captive? i live for that.

sometimes i write nursery rhymes

if it grows by leaps and bounds
when it's lead you all around
and it's written on your face
you want to call the chase
what do you do?
sink into the blue
climb back into bed
cover your little head
gracefully fade away
wait for a different day
hope everyone forgets
deal with the regrets?
or do you face it straight on
tell 'em they're all wrong
work until it's done
and fight till you're the one
when you win you'll know
how to stand on your own.
everyone will be proud
celebrate real loud.
until the next thing comes along
and it's started off all wrong
you work to make right
you don't give up the fight.


it's how we learn and know
step by step, we grow.