Not a depressive, angsty funk, but a writing a funk. I tried hard after the New Year to use some valuable freed up personal time to get back to finishing a draft of The Book, but it hasn't gone well. Part of it was that I was out of practice, and some of the skill that I (not really) possessed had atrophied. The real reason, though, is that I just cannot find any mojo, and it's turning into a real problem. The stuff that's come out is decidedly sub-par, and the drafts of a few chapters for the second half of the book don't jibe at all with the earlier, better stuff, which is discouraging. From everything I've read on the subject it seems that this is a common lull that people fall into, so I'm trying to stay optimistic.
So here's the plan: a long time ago and in a small refinery town far, far away I read an article in a magazine that told you that if you can't sleep, it's probably because your mind's racing. The cure? Get out of bed, keep the TV off, and make a list of something. Preferably, it should be a list of what to do the next day, but any list will do. To spin the metaphor, writing this fucking book has kept me in an insomniac's malaise and I'm getting more frustrated than dreamy. So I'm going to make a list, and it's a list of how to get my memoir swerve goin'. Follow it with me:
Step 1- More Writing, Dummy: Obvious, but essential. Whole sections of the first half dumped out of me like a frat brother after St. Patrick's day. Other stuff -good stuff- came out with a little pushing and a lot of elbow grease. But it came out because I was in the mode to work through it. I need to get back to that and not expect that some nerd deity will descend upon me for word-typing possession. The simple truth is that I don't carve out enough time to write, and I have to do that. No more excuses
Step 2- Read A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius: Before you leave, hear me out. This is something I've been avoiding since I started this little project a few years ago. When I read this book about a decade or so ago, I, like a bunch of other folks, thought it was the cat's ass, and it influenced a lot of the ways I would turn phrases when I was a lot more serious about blogging. Over the years I read more (and probably better) memoirs, and those influences slowly evolved, as influences do. The book I'm writing has two direct antecedents, but I won't be mentioning those right now. I know I should keep an open mind and let the work grow organically and all of that horeseshit, but the last thing I wanted was to reread a book that I (still) hold in high regard, cliched as it has become, and start bending the prose to be Eggers-esque, subconscious though it would be. It was a kind of hasty decision the other night, but I didn't want to dig around for a newer memoir, and those other two books still firmly in my mind during my process, so I made the call and decided that AHWOSG might kickstart something that I desperately need. Maybe I'm not a creator, and more of a synthesizer; a 2004 Ryan Adams rather than a 1987 Guns & Roses.* I guess we're going to find out. This will happen in the morning before work and, ideally, close to bedtime.
Step 3- Ingest More Comedy: Cancer's funny, even when it's not. Ok, that's a bit of a lie, but I'm working on it. Problem is, I'm not that funny of a guy, so you could say that I'm spinning my wheels a bit in my own way. I have lots of friends that are really into comedy, a few of them amateur stand-ups, and they've recommended me a couple of really good podcasts to sort of expand these influences. This is a lunchtime activity.
Step 4- Severely Cut Down on Video Games: For a book about cancer and video games this might sound kind of dumb, but really, it isn't. While it's true that I can play simple games during my lunch breaks (while following Step 3), long nightly gaming binges need to cease. Luckily, I just put Dark Souls 2 to rest (hundreds, yes, hundreds of hours later) and am almost finished with the Last of Us (finally), but I'm thinking I might just throw in the towel on the plight of Ellie and Joel like the ritual burning of a pack of cowboy killers. Ok, it won't be that dramatic, but this is a priority now.
Your collective silent screams have been heard internet. Stare at the wall for a split second and send me your good vibes.
*Not a comparison you should take seriously
