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Cliff's Thoughts 'n' Stuff

Alrighty, back in the saddle after seven-ish months

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After my back healed, I gave up on this blog. Work got busy, the holidays hit, another re-org or two at work, my son hit a rough spot academically, and life returned to normal. However, I feel like blogging again, since I've returned writing more than a daily journal.

Work:
I still manage most of the same people I managed in November (one quit and was replaced, and I added two more people). However, I have a new boss, and I have changed departments twice, and my boss' boss has changed twice. In our current position, we might get the technical support we need to actually complete our daily, monthly, and quarterly tasks, after a year's worth of ad hoc bullshit. In most cases, I've just written some sort of tool to do the job, but then I have to maintain those tools and scripts, creating a lot more work for me that decreases significantly the time I have for strategic planning and the putting out of fires.

Family:
The Wife and I have been married for over two years. We've been together for over four years. It gets better every day.

The Kid is a teenager now. Holy shit! He has made some of the usual 13-year-old mistakes, but he's recovered well. He has some work to complete in some other areas, but I am confident he can do it. He is still adjusting to the newer social scenes that come with the close of middle school (this coming year is his last year), and he's had to deal with some circumstances beyond his control from outside the normal realms of middle school chaos.

Writing:
I've done very little writing beyond a daily journal or three (maybe four?). I write in a dated one daily, filled with random notes about the day. It's not meant to be anything significant other than "what did I do in 2007?" In another, I write about writing, as well as use it almost as a commonplace book. Another journal is filled with programming notes that make my daily life easier. The last journal is for my emotional health, though I write in this one the least (but it has the heaviest grade paper so I guess that's something).

As far as what I am writing, not much has changed, though it is more focused stylistically. I still think of an interesting character or two, then toss him or her in some screwy situation, and go from there. I know what I want to say, at least when I start, though my final thoughts are no where near what I had originally intended. That's fine though. It helps the writing, and reminds me that editing is a beautiful thing.

Novels. That's on what I am going to focus. I'll write some stories for fun and for another project of mine (see "Real Work" below). I might get truly daring and write some essays too, maybe a column, but well, a blog is close enough to that without the formality and with a quick edit button.

I'm bashing about some novel ideas as I blog this tonight. Nothing concrete enough to mention, but this medication I am on for a medical ailment gives me some great dreams and ideas for what to do with all of these great characters of whom I am thinking. I'll have much more detail about this in future blogs.

I'm still reading some of the same authors as before, but I've left the "Southern Gothic" train for now. I'm mixing Vonnegut with Steinbeck, PKD and Robert E. Howard, and finally breaking down and reading Infinite Jest because the Wife deserves it (she's listened to my literary and programming theories for four years now--she needs a chance to talk too, tee hee).

A few others I am reading: James M. Cain; Fritz Leiber; re-reading a lot of Greek drama and epic poetry (I've got several items lined up to read; I've not read some of these works in ten years, ack!); bits and pieces of Alice Munro, though not as much as I would like. I still have a mountain of at least 35-40 or more books to get through before I finish the front of my numerous book piles.

Computing:
Intel Macs irritate me more and more, so once this iBook dies, I'm all Linux from that point until I find something I like better, which won't be Microsoft Windows or Apple OS X (10.4 has really begun to chap my hide, and the next version is not something I want to try barring a few new features, most of which are already in various Linux toys already).

While I like GNOME a lot, I don't like Mono so much, so for a desktop I'll be using KDE or Xfce (once it has a few more features in it). I like simple things like fvwm too, but yeah, I would like to spend more time using my desktop than coding my desktop, so KDE is probably the winner here. KDE will break most of my Yahoo! widgets though, so I'll be using KDE's widget engine as well as some Opera widgets. I don't use gmail, and Yahoo! mail seems to be a mess on Thunderbird and Opera, which means I'm stuck with web-based email for a bit longer (I am too lazy to make it work; so be it). I'm still experimenting with web messenging systems. I really like the latest Opera, so I'll stick with that as well as Firefox. I'm still experimenting with OpenOffice.org, KOffice, and Abiword and GNUmeric (I really like Abiword--I don't know so much about GNUmeric yet). Finally, I have to decide on what music player I want because most of my current collection is iTunes based and I don't want to deal with transferring all of that over to something new, which might happen anyway, damnit. As far as for a programming environment, I'm fine with emacs, KDevelop, the other KDE text editors, even gedit in a pinch.

Now that I've blathered on about what system I want to have, here's what I'll be doing with it ... .

Real Work:
  • Writing novels, stories, essays, and blogs. Mostly novels and blogs.
  • Developing an online magazine. I get cheap Web hosting from work for a few years, so I might as well use it before it gets expensive. I have several writer pals who needs some exposure, and I want to have some fun with the Web design (I have creative design people too, and I'll certainly need their assistance--huh, this could become very pricey).
  • I have several LAMP-like ideas I'd like to explore. Because it's on my time, I don't have the BS of deadlines so much. That's cool.

This last half of 2008 is going to be busy.

Check back often, because I will be updating this blog often (twice a week sounds about right--I have too much other work that must be finished each day, thereby precluding me from a daily update). Wait a few weeks though, so I can rid myself of some writing rustiness. I'll send updates, and figure out how to get an RSS feed up and working.

And I stopped writing for NaNoWriMo (but just NaNoWriMo) ... .

I was participating enthusiastically--for about a week. Then this little thing called work got in the way (this was after the phone calls from my son's teachers letting me know he was close to flunking most of his classes; ahhh, almost-thirteen). I leave for vacation in three-and-a-half weeks, which means everything I have to finish this year, I have to finish this year. Looking over my Q3/Q4 goals from before my boss went on maternity leave, I have several things to do. Not one of them is particularly difficult. However, each of them is time-consuming.

Work killed the momentum I had gained with NaNoWriMo. Manager-work trumps writing because I need to eat and pay the rent and such. I'm not mad about it. I might be a bit frustrated, but just because I don't finish 50K words in 30 days doesn't mean I cannot finish more with an additional month or two. I did learn a few things during the week I actually had time to participate.

  • It's really easy for me to write and save editing for later. I thought I would fight the save-editing-for-later urge. Newp. Not a problem.
  • Not using contractions to increase word count leaves one's dialogue very stilted. If one does this, he or she should not reread his or her dialogue until after the first draft is done. It can be disheartening otherwise.
  • I won't waste time with a detailed outline anymore. I ignore it anyway, and it is more fun to make up shit as I go along, keeping a small list of potential items to use to the side of me, but using most of my energy for letting my fingers do the talking and planning. I sling and fling less bullshit this way too. Plus, if someone asked me what the novel is about, it's a helluva lot easier to tell them than it is trying to translate an outline into something that passes for conversation at a party.
  • Dialogue isn't difficult. Action-like sequences aren't difficult. Difficult is relative in both of those cases; I am not trying to sound blase. For me, description is a bitch often enough, i.e. what to keep, what to ditch, making sure I'm actually describing something and not using dialogue as I would were I writing a play, etc. It's not as serious an issue as I thought though. I went and studied with some masters and took notes. I had some grand ideas I wanted to try, but work got in the way. At least I'm ready for writing during my vacation, if not sooner.


My stack of books to read is still here. I've added to it though, and veered off course from what I had planned on reading this month. I'm fine with this too, because I've discovered this swift Flannery O'Connor book that is more interesting than I thought it would be. Mystery and Manners. I recommend it, not only for her ability to insult creative writing programs and low-skilled writers, but for her ability to insult these people while remaining mannerly in true Southern fashion. She has many interesting comments on writing too, and not simply "this is plot, blah blah blah," or "this is point of view, blah blah blah," or anything else one normally learns in English 101 (or your school's equivalent first-term freshman English course) or via some overwrought "Creative Writing" for the Poor Dumb Bastard Who Doesn't Read but Who Wants to be A Writer Anyway book of which one can purchase a wide variety at your local bookstore or online. I won't spoil the fun of those comments by telling them to you because I've still about half of the book to read tonight and because I think you will get more out of them by reading the book yourself anyway.

Okay, I have to wrap this up. I'm too distracted by my wife watching the first season of "Kingdom." I think we are in episode four. Oh, also, my son's schoolwork is back on track now too, after several weeks of almost daily contact with his teachers and by encouraging him with "positive nagging."

And NaNoWriMo begins ... .

My word count is zero. Yes, a big fat goose egg. My NaNoWriMo dreams are on the path to destruction and ruin, shattering my writing dreams! And it's only day two!

Ummm, yeah, not really. Well, yes, my word count is zero. So -- fucking -- what?! As far as for the rest of the dramabomb whining, that is why I don't update a word count daily. What's the point, ya know? To play the tortured writer if you don't make a minimum each day? Screw that, some days are going to be slow, others are going to smoke. Self-pity reminds me of picking some bloody scab; it's there, so you have to fuck with it, tear at it piece by piece, all for the sticky kiss at the end when it peals off and you get a spark of pain, letting you know you still feel. So often, a writer's self-pity is like picking off the scab and then digging into the wound with a dirty sharpened fingernail.

Yesterday, I spent lunch reading various forums filled with posts from people who were starting NaNoWriMo, and the pretentiousness made me gag on my tuna / artichoke heart / garlic mayo sandwich. Excuse me, but aren't you supposed to enjoy your art, even a little bit? Hell, if it hurts that much, maybe you need to do something else. Or is the pain a way for you to get some attention? That's fine too, but I got over that years ago, and my patience for that sort of drama disappeared with the last girlfriend I had before I met my wife. Yeah, I'll appear compassionate, and I am in the beginning, but if you cannot unfuck your own life, after a while I'll grow bored and will move on quietly. Of course, the "tortured and misunderstood souls" from the "Great White Wasteland" posting in these threads are outshone in their bloody halos by the elitist writer twerps ... .

Hey, so you've read some great novels, and wrote some poorly cited or analyzed papers for a few classes (hey, I sure as hell did it too!), and you are King Shit at the local Starbucks or, gasp, a non-franchised coffee shop! Good for you. Enjoy it. Have fun being young. Laugh a little too, solve the world's problems, make art meaningful again, get laid, sleep in late, get drunk and experiment, let the whole room know just how bored and jaded you are -- you know, be young. Then, turn 30 or so, grow up a little, and be less pretentious. Now it's time to get to work and actually be creative (yes, you can start this before you turn 30, but shit, your 20s are for having fun -- grow up later).

Lest I be thought of as some arrogant, elitist prick, I am just as guilty of the above behaviors as anyone. Then I realized that I actually wanted to fish the ocean of ideas in my head and got down to really studying and building that fishing pole instead of waggling my perceived intellectual cock. I've blogged about a few piles of books I am reading at the moment, not for literary cred, but because I'm interested in picking apart and learning the techniques involved in writing those stories, as well as having something fun to read. Plus, I am giddy about the stories themselves and wanted to share my excitement.

So, ummm, why am I bitching about all of this? For me, NaNoWriMo is about fun (and I am sure it is for most of the people participating -- I'm just complaining about one type of participant). Aside from college, I've never written fiction to a deadline before and I like the idea of taking a dry run at developing writing habits I've never had before. Sure, I've written when I felt like it, and more often than I'd realized until recently, but I never stuck it out. For a variety of reasons, I've made excuses in the past, and I am okay with that. However, now I am not in the mood to be such a haphazard writer and am instead teaching myself discipline, the proverbial "get up off your ass and sit down and write." That's the "big fun" for me for NaNoWriMo. Plus, a cheesy little banner for a Web site will be fun to have or to talk about when people ask me "WTF is that thing on your Web site?"

This week in bullet points:

And in no particular order ... .

On Wednesday, we had a company-sponsored Oktoberfest. Of course, since I was still taking pain medication for my back, I had to pass on the beer. I ate a lot and chain-smoked with those who could enjoy the beer (lucky bastards!). It was the usual company gathering, with one exception ...

... we had a Van Halen tribute band perform. Yes, the Atomic Punks played here. There were a lot of 40-something, top-MBA-school-types rocking out, throwing devil horns, or dancing. I took some camera phone pictures, but they are too blurry to upload to my neck of the Opera woods. For a special treat, Michael Anthony, Van Halen's bassist, played during the last half of the set.

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Our spam filters at work are failing under the deluge of "VeIAGRA" and "VaIAGRA" offers. The spelling changes often enough that MS Outlook filters are pointless. I usually delete at least 50 of these things a day.

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I had the worst damn cafeteria food today -- some nasty Calzone with carrots, onions, ground beef, and thin runny sauce. I also ate a sugar cookie that was covered in what was allegedly frosting, but had the texture of paper. Maybe I ate the wrapper by mistake?

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I spent some time last night looking into MA/MFA programs in my area. There are several schools within a 30-mile radius of where I work or live (both locations being 25 miles apart, so that adds some distance either way), but one program only accepts six people a year, one school's program isn't really an MFA program but instead carries the expectation that you are there to get a Ph.D. in literature, one is my alma mater though it isn't really an MFA program, and two other possibilities (I've not looked at a few schools yet). I think I've narrowed everything down to two or three schools, but I still have a year to make up my mind. Once my son is in high school, then I'm off to grad school, whoo hoo! (More on this in a future post, but I don't have a lot of time right now, and I have some more research to do anyway).

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I set up my NaNoWriMo profile today. Yeah, it's about quantity and not quality, but I just want an excuse to tell everyone to fuck off for a month while I write. After that, I will find another reason to tell everyone to fuck off while I write.

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My Williams Faulkner and Shakespeare bookmarks showed up today. I am excited.

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"Smudgegate" -- hey everyone, it's not Watergate, or the Iran-Contra BS, or Halliburton, or tying Saddam with Osama and then saying "oops, we meant this instead." It's a damn baseball game. If the players aren't bitching about it, who really cares? If you live your life through your sports teams, you have other problems anyway. As far as for the idea that baseball is trying to "cover something up," how about we spend that journalistic energy on real news items instead of Snoop getting busted again, Anna Nicole Smith's baby's daddy, whether or not some scientist can prove ghosts or zombies or vampires couldn't exist, or whether a pitcher doctored a ball for an inning or two, etc.?

Hell, I'm not going to start my rant about journalism. It will just make me look bitter.

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I switched to Wise Blood for my next book to read. I needed a break from Faulkner. I've spent the past three days trying to find a character around which to base my own stream-of-consciousness, gothic-influenced story, instead of just writing a damn story. I've read that Faulkner can do that to someone, but I didn't think I would be susceptible to it. Lesson learned.

Wasted Work Lunch

I know I keep bitching and moaning about it, but I hurt my back a week-and-a-half ago (damn TV), and I am on some fun muscle relaxants for the pain and stiffness. Most of last week I sat at home, flat on my back, trying to find a position in which I could lie for more than 20 minutes without gasping in pain. I wasn't often successful. The pain also made it difficult to read, so you know just how crappy my life was last week.

I worked an eight-hour day today, but by lunch time I needed to get out of my desk chair and stretch for a while. Hell, I thought I would go to lunch and write for a while, basking in my rediscovery of handwriting (yeah, I had to get excited about something last week while I was more bored than I had been in years). I had an idea I wanted to explore, so I inhaled my sandwich and muffin and began writing.

Less than five minutes into it, my back spasmed and I gripped my pen in an iron-workers handshake. For the next several minutes, all I could write was profanity about how much pain I felt. I also forgot everything I was planning to write. The pain didn't subside, so I closed my notebook, tossed my trash, waved to some pals of mine, and headed back to work. I stopped and stood in the sun for a few moments, hoping the heat would help. Once I felt better, I went inside the overly air-conditioned building and so much for standing in the sun.

I hadn't sat down when the damn fire alarm went off. I made it down four flights of stairs without passing out from the pain, and I stood in the sun with about five hundred coworkers and retold my back injury story to the few people who hadn't heard about it. Once the all clear sounded, I walked up one flight of stairs, left the stairwell, and used the elevator. At my desk, I swallowed a muscle relaxant as fast as possible, and tried to work for the next several hours. I gave up around 4:30.

Since I had a few hours to kill until it was time to leave, I tried writing again, but once the muscle relaxant kicked in, writing became pointless. I wrote maybe two paragraphs about Hamish the Wonder Pig and His Fermented Apples before I logged into myspace and read bulletins about pit bulls. So much for writing today (after the ride home, my brain is too fuddled to write much of anything).

What I'm Reading at the Moment

I've never been able to read just one book at a time, and most readers I know are the same way. I also have a job that pays me enough to spend far too much money at bookstores, so when I get into an author, I really get into an author and buy almost all of his or her books and work my way through them.

So, today's current piles include:
  • William Faulkner's Soldier's Pay,
  • another mountain of Faulkner books (I'd only read a few short stories and two of his novels in college. However, as I've started writing again, I've begun to really appreciate his work. I'm not as excited about his descriptive text or dialogue as I am by his characters and certain subtleties),
  • Flannery O'Connor's Wise Blood and Complete Stories (holy crap, can she fire off a short story; as far as for her novels, The Violent Bear It Away was good, but I've enjoyed her short stories more),
  • a selection of Tolstoy and Dostoevsky (I've been craving some predominantly 19th Century realism lately),
  • Marlowe's Complete Plays (I had to read several of his plays in college, and I felt like rereading them),
  • assorted magazine articles in The Writer magazine, Linux Journal, as well as a few other magazines as I see fit (laundromat and bathroom reading),
  • the Los Angeles Times, a few other weekly newspapers, and several online news sources (so I can claim to be somewhat informed about current, world, and local events).

Yeah, I don't know that I will be updating this list anytime soon. I have almost two dozen Faulkner books in one pile, and a dozen Tolstoy and Dostoevsky books. I should have enough to read from now until the end of the holidays, maybe longer.

As far as for why I am reading what I am reading, it essentially breaks down into this:
  • As I mentioned above, Faulkner for characters and subtleties,
  • the Russians for their realism and somewhat epic qualities,
  • Flannery O'Connor for her story qualities,
  • Marlowe for fun,
  • the rest for information and stuff to discuss at bars or around the water cooler.

More about that black pen and legal pad.

Huh, I was supposed to write and post this on Saturday, but I've been traveling back and forth from my place to my parents' place to take care of their dog and five cats (my parents are out-of-town this weekend). Since my back is still a wreck, my wife has been driving me back and forth, which is fun because we get some marital time. (We've also heard Justin Timberlake's "Sexy Back" at least three times today, whoo hoo!)

While I'd meant to get crackin' on this earlier, I got distracted by writing in another journal of mine. Quick aside: For our first wedding anniversary (paper) a few months ago, my wife bought me a nifty "Zen" journal (long story). She also purchased "The Best of the Perl Journal" for me; I got her a DSM-IV and some books of crime scene photos (real stuff, not that CSI wannabee crap). While "The Best of the Perl Journal" is spiffy, I was very intrigued by the journal. I'd wanted a regular, day-to-day thoughts journal so that I could save my Moleskines for writing journals. I've had that other journal for a few months now.

I've been reading Faulkner's Soldier's Pay yesterday and today, but I needed a break and the writing itch was in dire need of being scratched. One of my Moleskines was sitting on that previously-mentioned, attention-gathering, yellow legal pad. However, my back pain returned almost entirely today, so I knew I couldn't sit in my normal writing position for more than a few moments. This meant no story-writing, at least not tonight. The pens lying on the legal pad kept catching my eye, and I succumbed to the temptation soon enough. Fortunately, on one of our night stand / end table things to the right of where I was sitting, rested my "Zen" journal, so I wrote in that for 10-15 minutes.

Six journal pages later, I had to get ready to leave for my parents' again, but I'd thought and written about why I'm going to start handwriting first drafts of stories and novels. My reasoning:
  • a Moleskine, legal pad, or plain notebook is more portable than a laptop,
  • I really enjoy the physical sensation of writing on Moleskine paper,
  • I write more often if I am handwriting; with a computer, I am distracted by too many things. Plus, I have to stare at a blank page, as I've mentioned previously. With lined paper, I don't see a blank page; I see a place where words are demanding to be placed,
  • I force myself to write a draft and edit later, instead of editing while I write, as I do with a word processor (I'm working on breaking that habit),
  • I can literally cut and paste passages,
  • I'm forced to be succinct,
  • I write more often (a lot more often),

I know this isn't interesting to most people out there, but that leads me to my point. I've spent too long on the mechanics of writing and developing my Writing Paradigm, which has turned into a multiple page monster that is more suited to criticism than it is to sitting down and writing. I've also ditched most of the paradigm in favor of just sitting down and writing with some story notes and sketches at my side.

For all of the books out there suggesting this idea or that idea or this technique or that technique, sitting down and writing seems to be the only thing that works for me. Reading a lot, and knowing the basics of literature and plotting help tremendously, but you still have to put down words onto something permanent. This evening, that spiffy legal pad and black pen reminded me of that notion.

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No story updates tonight. I've a few ideas floating about in my head, but nothing yet solid enough to use. I still have a little over a week until National Novel Writing Month to come up with something useful.

Wow, double post

I loved my first post so much I posted it twice!

Yay me!

Why I'm bored at home with a bum back

, ,

I'm not a TV whore. Since I was pre-kindergarten age, books, newspapers, and magazines have interested me more than TV. TV is too passive a form of entertainment for me, and I grow impatient just watching it. Even if I am watching a live, unscripted event, I am usually doing something else while the TV drones.

I hurt my back almost a week ago (lifting a TV, of course), so I've been stuck at home resting and growing very bored. I cannot clean, I cannot sit and play video games -- Hell, it's hard to wipe. I have a mountain of books through which to plow, but my anxiety about sitting around being allegedly useless is distracting me from the paper hills of Faulkner, Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Borges, and Marlowe facing me.

I am also faced with the 21st Century writer's greatest affliction -- the damned Internet. I have my word processor shortcut next to my browser shortcut on one side, and one of my email applications' shortcuts to the other side. Hmmm, I'm faced with the blank "page" of a text file; but wait, with a mere mouse click, I have pages and pages of written words to read. I don't have to write -- someone else has done that for me! I can read and be the Internet intellectual, with nothing to back it up but quotes and box-score-like sound-byte stats! I am the knowledge god and I have an excuse to talk about writing rather than actually writing.

With a quick drag, I've moved the word processor icon to the other end of the dock, away from distracting Internet toys. I've closed my email, and the only browser window or tab I have open is this blog. I'm fighting the "Internet addiction" and winnning, and the rush is distracting me from the pain in my back whenever I sit for too long or try to move in one of three directions.

Of course, I still haven't written anything but the paragraphs above, which aren't any sort of story no matter how one looks at it.

Looking about the living room, I have a nice flat-panel HD TV with satellite programming and TiVo, more than one video game console, at least three separate piles of books, and my laptop. I am bored. So many toys, and I am bored. With the exception of the books, my entertainment options are passive, which does not mix with my restlessness of sitting here with an injured back.

I find myself drawn to a legal pad and two black pens on top of one of the book piles. In this recent age of mass communication and bewildering array of entertainment (and I thought life was exciting 15 years ago when I had cable TV, sometime access to a PC, and was withing walking distance of three bookstores), I want to play with a toy with which I've played for thirty years.

####
National Novel Writing Month starts in twelve days. I plan to update this blog with more exciting and thought-out tidbits every Wednesday and Saturday, and with other random crap when the bug bites. Many-to-most of the November updates will be highlights and updates of my first NaNoWriMo adventure.

Why I'm bored at home with a bum back

, ,

I'm not a TV whore. Since I was pre-kindergarten age, books, newspapers, and magazines have interested me more than TV. TV is too passive a form of entertainment for me, and I grow impatient just watching it. Even if I am watching a live, unscripted event, I am usually doing something else while the TV drones.

I hurt my back almost a week ago (lifting a TV, of course), so I've been stuck at home resting and growing very bored. I cannot clean, I cannot sit and play video games -- Hell, it's hard to wipe. I have a mountain of books through which to plow, but my anxiety about sitting around being allegedly useless is distracting me from the paper hills of Faulkner, Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Borges, and Marlowe facing me.

I am also faced with the 21st Century writer's greatest affliction -- the damned Internet. I have my word processor shortcut next to my browser shortcut on one side, and one of my email applications' shortcuts to the other side. Hmmm, I'm faced with the blank "page" of a text file; but wait, with a mere mouse click, I have pages and pages of written words to read. I don't have to write -- someone else has done that for me! I can read and be the Internet intellectual, with nothing to back it up but quotes and box-score-like sound-byte stats! I am the knowledge god and I have an excuse to talk about writing rather than actually writing.

With a quick drag, I've moved the word processor icon to the other end of the dock, away from distracting Internet toys. I've closed my email, and the only browser window or tab I have open is this blog. I'm fighting the "Internet addiction" and winnning, and the rush is distracting me from the pain in my back whenever I sit for too long or try to move in one of three directions.

Of course, I still haven't written anything but the paragraphs above, which aren't any sort of story no matter how one looks at it.

Looking about the living room, I have a nice flat-panel HD TV with satellite programming and TiVo, more than one video game console, at least three separate piles of books, and my laptop. I am bored. So many toys, and I am bored. With the exception of the books, my entertainment options are passive, which does not mix with my restlessness of sitting here with an injured back.

I find myself drawn to a legal pad and two black pens on top of one of the book piles. In this recent age of mass communication and bewildering array of entertainment (and I thought life was exciting 15 years ago when I had cable TV, sometime access to a PC, and was withing walking distance of three bookstores), I want to play with a toy with which I've played for thirty years.

####
National Novel Writing Month starts in twelve days. I plan to update this blog with more exciting and thought-out tidbits every Wednesday and Saturday, and with other random crap when the bug bites. Many-to-most of the November updates will be highlights and updates of my first NaNoWriMo adventure.
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