Showing posts with label writer's block. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writer's block. Show all posts

Sunday, October 9, 2011

I can't write anything but To Do lists anymore

I try to focus. First to gather, and then to ready, steady,

Aim

And hurl the thousands of black shapes that flit and flicker about in my brain into the restful white where they belong.

But writing requires two key ingredients: ample idle time and more than a little self-absorption. I work 70-80 hours a week lately, so I'm fresh out of both.

Even now I can't stop my letters, morphemes, words, phrases, sentences from forming To Do lists long enough to compose something less banal.

So I give up. Here's my To Do list for the work week:

1. Teach students the difference between the words thesis and feces.  They keep getting them confused for some reason, and I'm tired of the giggling when I tell Tommy that his thesis is solid or when I tell Mary to keep pushing for a stronger one.

2. Remind students that while the word "fuck" may be modified to serve as any of the eight parts of speech, one may not do the same with any other word. Rules are rules, kids. But I admire your creativity.

3. Review spelling with the sophomores:
  • Text should not be spelled txt
  • IDK is not an acceptable answer on a quiz
  • Although we have a delightful student named Luv in the class, the word is still love. Also remind Vawdka's parents to (a) never name another child after an alcoholic beverage, even if it played a vital role in the child's conception, and (b) if they insist, to at least check the label for proper spelling first.
  • Spell-check is not full-proof: without thorough proofreading, public relations may inadvertently become pubic relations, as it did on a recent paper I graded.
4. Praise students more.

5. Scowl less.

6. Remember that you, too, once insisted on using a heart in place of a dot on your "i"s.

7. Manage your time so you can write more. You're happier when you write.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

On Writer's Block

After two days of maddening writer's block, I sat down determined to write about writer's block itself. I was inspired by Kid in the Front Row's post about the frustration of what he calls "stuckness." You can read his insightful post here. The eventual result of my contemplation was this poem, which heroically bore a hole through my muddled mind and freed itself of its owner, landing on my blank page.



Word empty and blank full
An imagination interred
 In a sepulcher of white pages
Heavy as marble
And wanting even an epitaph.

This is the tomb of an unknown
Defeated in combat by a shadowy foe
Her language plundered
And her remains shrouded
In disquieting silence.