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A Writer’s Slow Torture

cohenIf you’re a writer, you’re likely reading this, thinking to yourself, “I’ll just finish this and then write.”

Writers are inevitably readers. To write well, one must read. A lot.

Unfortunately, one must also pay the bills. This often means, for those of us posting blogs, scratching out articles, and completing the novels our souls just can’t let us forget, that we must also work at something other than writing.

Fortunately, I happen to have a very full-time gig doing something that I’m good at, and that I feel called to do. Instead of being a cog in a corporate machine, I get to do meaningful work. But it’s not pounding out the stories, ideas or observations that constantly rap at my concentration and drive me to distraction.

Alas, it’s not writing, and writing is what I crave.  The more I do it, the more I want to do it. It’s a vicious cycle darlings.

Between the craving, the suppression of my creative observation of mundane life and fascinating people, and having to work for a living, well, let’s just say, it’s enough to drive a girl to wine, men and ballads sung by Aretha Franklin played at a startling high volume.  Le sigh….

If the road to hell is paved with good intentions, then nine-tenths of it is thanks to writers and artists who, like myself, must also work at something else for a living.

So, if you’re a writer like me, I hope that you make a promise to yourself to set aside some time to perfect your craft.  The real challenge is to set aside time when you feel rested,  and full of energy, not just the 10pm onward time when all you really want to be doing is snuggling in, or sound asleep.

Without writing time I feel like I’m being smothered. I feel like a part of me is dying a slow, painful death. It’s time to re-establish my routine, and to commit to what brings me joy and vitality.

 

 

 

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Less Talk More Music

morning radioDid video really kill the radio star? Are we (mostly meaning ‘me’) trying to hang on too long to local radio?

Every day I have at least a half  hour commute. It can stretch to an hour and a half if the weather is bad and every single senior citizen in the city decides to break out the Caddy for senior’s day at the pharmacy.

Every day I listen to the radio. I like the news, weather and traffic updates. I like to keep current in case I need to make small talk. Small talk is highly under-rated when it comes to my career, but that’s another blog for another time.

My car is akin to a superbowl dressing room in that I use it to mentally prepare for my day. On the way home, it’s a decompression chamber. I turn up my music and I sing my heart out all the way home (at this point in the day I have no patience for advertisements and just play my iPhone).

The music is so loud that I can’t even hear myself swear or honk the horn at idiot drivers. The decibal level is very, very, theraputic.

What?! Did you say something?

Anyway, the point of this whole rant is that morning radio is more annoying than having to talk to someone who has spit accumulating in the corners of their mouth.

My typical morning commute involves switching between 5 and 7 different stations.  There is always one dj who has a forced laugh. None worse than the Roz of Roz and Mocha. It makes me want to stick my tongue into an electrical outlet and call it lights out.

During the morning commute, the less talk the better. Unless I’ve turned the dial to talk radio, or there is a breaking news story, please, for the love of all that’s holy, just let the music play.