Tag: writing

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Day 138: Three Empty Boxes

OK, bitch.

That’s tough talk from a three day loser. Take it for what you will.

I just finished an email to newly in touch old friend in which I describe my recent and record string of fail as an unplanned hiatus or an all out fuck up. Since I’m only accountable to me I’m tempted to light on myself, but that might not be all that productive. So let’s say I go instructional instead. That’s guilt inducing and constructive at the same time.

One of the tenants of the Seinfeldian Chain is that it’s addictive to keep putting little X’s in the boxes. That having a string makes you want to add to that string. It makes you want to avoid a gap like it’s the little red X version of getting pantsed in gym class–speaking of little and red. I am here to say I’ve thought of little else since I started this three day run of empty boxes.

The trouble is creating the gap at all, because once you’ve done that it feels like you just abandoned your power. Imagine a train muscling along the track: car after car after graffiti tagged car. Traffic backs up on either side of the crossing. Drivers put it into P or neutral and set the parking break. They roll down their windows and enjoy the evening air or curse. Either way this impenetrable locomotive commands them to stop. To take notice. To change their pathetic little plans. I am unstoppable! Then the last car rounds up the herd and lumbers by. The steel thunder fades. The blinking red lights abruptly don’t. The ding-ding arms go up. A gap.

“Fuck you train. I won’t be late for dinner now. Ha HA!”

The power resides in the continuity and the connectivity. If you can keep the gaps short the arms stay down. The lights blink. The thunder lulls but doesn’t die. A second locomotive appears on the horizon.

“Dammit. I bought ice-cream at the grocery for shit’s sake.”

Hopefully this entry will be the first of 863 more cars. Hopefully I can melt your vanilla.

I think I can.

Word count: 376

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Day 137: Deckard’s Stuff

The stars aligned so I watched “Blade Runner” on HD-DVD last night.  I started that at ten and ended after midnight.  These HD movies shine.  It’s like going back to the theatre to watch the thing–maybe even better.

What struck me aside from the clarity was the scale.  Everything in a shot was heaped on.  I don’t know what the budget was, but it’s as if a four year old were set in charge of making their own chocolate milk.  Just one more squeeze and I’m done–promise.  Everywhere the camera landed there was stuff: characterization stuff, tone stuff, mood stuff, genre stuff.  Everywhere: stuff.

I hope when I write that I learn to convey that even if a character doesn’t open a closet through out the entire novel that if they did stuff would tumble out. 

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Day 220: Beautiful Simplicity

I’ve just bought a game that inspires me.  I wanted to say, "Inspires my writing."  I am not sure that I can or it could, not exactly.

The premise of the game is to do one thing.  One very simple thing.  My four year old loves it and the almost three year old plays it well enough, but likes Daddy to do it because I’m better at it and it’s therefore more fun to watch.  The point is it’s simple.  They spice it up with variety of play and a timer, but I’d happily play without different zones or even a ticking clock to beat.

It’s worth thinking about how to adapt such simplicity to writing.

My first reaction is that you probably can’t.  There is structure and purpose in the language that begat the words that in turn build a story.  But I wouldn’t have thought the simplification employed by this game would create game play that competes with much more complex and involved games.