Where's the boy with the chemicals?

[sovay]

Here we have the obligatory writer's sulk.

I went to bed early, because I'm several days underslept, overdosed on human company, and slightly feverish; and I'm still awake, because my brain is stalled out. I have a photograph that my father asked me to write about, a quotation from H.D., and a quotation from T.S. Eliot. I can feel how they all fit together. (The working title is "The Salt House.") I've got no words. So I'm set to "creative," but there's nothing there: this is very frustrating.

It smells like burning tires outside. There are periodic male shouts and high-pitched female laughter. I can only hope this means the fraternities across the street are engaged in some sort of exciting sacrificial ritual that will thin their numbers and leave fewer impediments to my sleep on the weekends, but I rather doubt it.

Alas.

Comments

[nineweaving.livejournal.com]

I've got no words. So I'm set to "creative," but there's nothing there: this is very frustrating.

That's the story of my life.

My sympathies.

Nine

[sovay]

That's the story of my life.

I don't suppose that means you've acquired any handy tips for alleviating the problem?

(On the bright side, I found practically a whole communityful of I, Claudius icons, so I can't be entirely depressed.)

[nineweaving.livejournal.com]

I don't suppose that means you've acquired any handy tips for alleviating the problem?

I wish.

Nine

[papersky.livejournal.com]

What I do when I am like that is to read usenet or LJ for a bit and see how it flows. Then I put on a magic writing necklace(1), light a magic writing candle, rearrange my magic writing stones, and put a magic writing record on the record player. I open up Protext (the magic writing word-processor) and say to myself that I will sit there in front of it until the end of the side of the record. Then I write the first word. I'll look at the first word for a while, and hope that it leads me to the second and the third and so on. If I am in the precise state you describe, with the quote and the photo and the title, I'll copy out the quotes and the title and write the first word. If I don't have the slightest clue about the first word, but everything is in flow-state and not flowing, I'll write any word that is in the same space. (This works better for poems, where you don't have to start with the words in the right order.) If I have something like that one word and I focus on it, usually it shows me the way on.

The worst that happens is that I sit in front of a blank screen for half an hour listening to Bach.

It's rare for it not to work. If it doesn't work, I don't try to write again that day, I tell myself I'm not going to, and I do something else, usually something physical and useful like cooking or cleaning or making something out of lego. (Which isn't useful, per se, but is good for my hands.) Often then, in the middle of washing dishes or fitting together lego bricks, I'll start hearing the words and I'll be back at the computer jiggling with impatience for the two seconds it takes for Protext to load.

(1) Magic writing necklaces are available from elisem. Their magicality, and the magicality of the other items mentioned, which can be purchased from good quality stores everywhere, is entirely internal to the state of the writer, but heck, writing is also an internal and magical state, going from no words to words the way it does.

[sovay]

If I am in the precise state you describe, with the quote and the photo and the title, I'll copy out the quotes and the title and write the first word.

I had done this and gotten two apparently unrelated sentences; I am sure they will go together eventually, but I don't yet know how. I'll probably figure out while I am supposed to be reading the Iliad or cleaning my apartment. (Showers also tend to serve as good catalysts, probably for some reason to do with inconvenience.)

Thank you.

[nineweaving.livejournal.com]

Ah, but you can speak with words; they come when you do call for them. This is like speaking with dragons.

I wish I had a spell that works for me.

Nine

[eredien]

May I quote you on that first line, somewhere and at some time?

[kraada.livejournal.com]

Well, in terms of chemicals I've got some dihidryogen monoxide, some C12H22O11 hanging around . . . pretty sure I could dredge up some sodium bicarbonate. Fresh out of citric and ascorbic acid I'm afraid (blame captainbutler, he drank all of it).

As to finding inspiration . . . having the power just completely go out for about 45 minutes and sitting on the futon in the dark just worked pretty well for me. (And said poem will probably get completed after this post and hit my poetry list sometime tonight.)

Though I don't recommend blowing a fuse just to test the theory . . . in terms of new amusing fun things, I was working through http://tipthepizzaguy.com/ when the power went out . . . though I think the traffic from Fark has been giving them issues (I'm getting weird SQL errors now . . . which is sad, because the stories were good). . .

[tamaranth.livejournal.com]

I know what you mean about the well being empty. When I feel like this, I free-associate, or write word-lists, or thousand-word run-on sentences .... Sometimes new ideas come out of hiding (memorably, the short story that emerged last winter when I went round the house testing every pen by writing a single sentence with it). Sometimes, it's just nice when you stop!

[justbeast.livejournal.com]

> I can only hope this means the fraternities across the street are engaged in
> some sort of exciting sacrificial ritual that will thin their numbers and
> leave fewer impediments to my sleep

You come up with the /best/ ideas!

[sovay]

Heh. I try. : )

[clarionj.livejournal.com]

I agree with all the tips/responses given here already, but my reaction when I read the post was that you've already written something. Just this-- this complaint, admission, question--is evocative, starting with the heading (now I'm singing Bright Eyes), to the suggestion of a photo to go with H.D. and Eliot (jeez, that has me going), the tires burning, and the wonderful way only you can ask for sleep. Any chance you'd post the quotations? Oh, that's okay. I can pull a book from my shelf.

[sovay]

H.D. and Eliot

H.D.'s "The Shrine" (from Sea Garden, 1916) and Eliot's "East Coker" (from Four Quartets, 1945)—at least in my head, they go together.

Thank you.

[erzebet.livejournal.com]

Alas. I don't think their numbers will thin any time soon.

More's the pity.