Random craps #450.

~ Hetty Eliot

Who knows what number in the series it actually is. Or if there even is a series.

I don’t remember the last time I was able to scrape together a fictional story of any kind. Maybe the “untitled” thing that I dug up and posted a few weeks ago–yet even then I couldn’t come up with a title. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me. Probably just rusty from being lazy and undisciplined. Plus I’m getting nervous because it’s almost September–those who know will know what I mean!

I should be going to sleep now; actually, I should already be asleep but I’ve got the terrible habit of staying up too late because I don’t want to fall asleep and then wake up to go to work. The longer I stay up, the more time I have before I go. For some reason, very few people understand this concept.

Anyways, back to writing. I haven’t written a writer’s block post in a long time. I think that’s a good thing. I’d be too ashamed to at this stage of the game, anyway! After a while, you can’t get away with that sort of thing. It’s too easy. Oh, I have writer’s block, pity me. Nah, I don’t feel like taking that approach right now.

You know what I think the problem is? There are so many things up in the air for me right now. It’s like having a boo-boo that would feel awkward or creepy to touch, so you just want to keep it covered until it scabs over. I don’t do well writing about things as they’re happening–I can only collect impressions and then later on, once the time has passed and I have digested them, I will be able to write about it.

Like right now, for instance. Unwelcome wedding drama continues to heat up. People being underhanded, rude, selfish. I don’t want any of this and it’s happening all around me. Some of it would actually provide great fodder. I can vent about it, sure–but it’s difficult to fictionalize it when you don’t know the outcome. I don’t believe in writing stories the way they happen in real life. Usually, there’s a kernel of truth that can be extracted from it, which sprouts into a story that might bear little resemblance to the real thing . I think it comes out better that way. Yet, the story is still true nonetheless. But how can I find the truth unless the episode is concluded?

I can’t blame work because I am not stressed there right now, though it is the calm before the storm. Hopefully, I won’t go into a psychosis this holiday season. Every holiday season except the last two, I went into a psychosis in which I was barely recognizable and said/did many things I regret. I think I have broken that chain, now, whether through willpower or just not caring enough anymore to get worked up. The only thing that stresses me out at this moment is meeting so many new people to train. I have bad anxiety and it takes all of my Oscar-worthy acting ability to pretend that I’m sort of friendly when I’d really prefer to just hide in the back office in the dark and count money that doesn’t belong to me.

Then, my father has been rather ill. That’s another issue I don’t want to contemplate. Throughout my life, I’ve had many experiences of things looking bad… then they’re fine. Then bad… then they’re fine. Until one day I run out of answered prayers and things are not fine. Right at this moment, I think things will be fine. But there’s always a next time… and people have expiration dates and you can’t outrun them no matter how many times you’ve been spared the pain and given new chances. This too is something difficult to write about.

Therefore, I return to the beginning, which is my difficulty with fiction. How do I write about a painful matter like that while I’m in the middle of it? So I mostly find myself retreating to my room to write, in a diary, short entries, factual tidbits–separated by dashes–like this–because I am too lazy and rushed to write in complete sentences–and short descriptions of my emotions–and someday they’ll provide the basis for something, whether I like it or not; or perhaps it’s better to phrase it this way: they’ll provide the basis for something whether I know I need it or not.

66 thoughts on “Random craps #450.”

  2. Hey Hetty, just a question, but do you want to write? The reason I’m asking is I’m writing nothing at the moment, I have ideas but no motivation and strangely I don’t think I actually want to do it. Perhaps you’re feeling similar.

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    1. I think it’s just a brief phase I’m going through because real life is crowding out other thoughts. I guess you’d have to ask yourself how you’d feel if you never wrote anything again. Would you feel relieved or empty? Do you subconsciously avoid it? I am capable of turning down plans or changing my schedule if I’m working on something important to me. Right now I’m beyond late for work but I’d rather answer comments. When I was in college, I never let anything get in my way of studying and writing papers. In grad school, however, I let things slip, found excuses to do other things, never visited the library. I realized I didn’t eat/breathe/sleep it the way other people did so I left. I want to express myself and I’m not happy till I do. If I can share with other people and hear their experiences, I’m thrilled–but ultimately if it remains alone with me, I’m okay with that too because I did it for my own pleasure and self-understanding, and to be proud I accomplished something however small. So this is my really long-winded way of avoiding work and saying to you, ask yourself questions and test yourself to see how you feel. Do some thought experiments.

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        1. Hey! Need a rush? Put a plastic bag over your head and go play with a tennis ball on the freeway!
          Sorry, dude couldn’t resist, you bein’ so sensitive and all. Don’t feel bad, that was my dad’s line for the boredom whine. I have a character modeled after you. Six one female. Like a chick singer. We could change that joke to how many George Fs does it take to change a light bulb? Chill dude, work is pocket change unless it’s a passion. Save your rush wishes for the good stuff.

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  3. Of course you’re forgiven for the fanciful, random post title. All the big news outlets are doing it! I blame Moby Grape for inventing it when they named the last song on their first album “Omaha,” which had nothing whatsoever to do with anything. Which is basically true of Omaha in general, so perhaps in a strange, circular, reverse time-stream kind of way it was appropriate. But I digress.
    I truly hope all stressors eventually pass, or at least ease up, or snap, or dissolve, in their own ways. Well, actually they always do, but at any rate we are all waiting for the wedding story–I mean, that ought to be good.
    Think of it as a writer’s pause.

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    1. Titling things is NOT my forte at all. But maybe that’s my fault because I usually spend no more than five or six seconds thinking of one. Anyways, it’s always one stressor or another–my fiance always says he’s going to do X or Y when he’s not stressed anymore. And I tell him, then just admit you’re never going to do it because you’ll never have a day when all stressors are cleared off your plate. I am not really taking a “pause” on purpose–I find deliberate pauses are far more detrimental than just dabbling in crap every day.

      And I dread telling the wedding story when it’s all said and done.

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      1. Well, the main thing is I hope things smooth out for you. I hope your father is OK. It does seem like “it’s always something.”
        You sure about the wedding story?? I’m the same way about have to let things percolate in my head for awhile before I even feel capable of writing about them. Need time for the real truth of it all to bubble to the surface.

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  4. “I have bad anxiety and it takes all of my Oscar-worthy acting ability to pretend that I’m sort of friendly when I’d really prefer to just hide in the back office in the dark and count money that doesn’t belong to me.” That is… so relatable. I’ll pray.

    I would be willing to give advice about writer’s block when writing fiction, if you like. I do have experience.

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  5. When it rains it storms. I hope your father gets better fast. Just concentrate on him and family. And maybe you can write poetry in journal about how you feel going through the phase you are going thru. I know what a random left field comment. I have been writing bad poetry in my journal to let of the steam of life. And it a random way it works. and I am losing myself is Hindi songs .

    There was something i was listening too – totally unrelated to what i just said. Basically saying we all, all human have multiple personalities, it doesn’t mean we are schizophrenic. It is actually normal, because we have so many roles we play in life. eg Daugther, sister, grand daughter, aunt, cousin, employee, manager, neighbour, friend, loud friend, quiet friend – you get the flow. So our song taste goes with our emotional state – well this is my wisdom, and letting ourselves go with the flow really release what ever needs releasing when we are in emotional pain.

    In my random humble opinion.

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    1. I don’t think your comment is random at all–it’s a unique perspective. It’s funny you mention bad poetry–I’ve been writing some bad stream-of-consciousness poetry stuff too in my OneNote! I guess great minds think alike 🤪. I’m a big listener of music myself and I totally agree that our choice goes with our emotional state. I’m glad you’re enjoying the Hindi songs.

      When it comes to our parents, the role changes get so difficult. I’m sure you understand as your mother’s caretaker. Being a child suddenly blurs into something else entirely. The child hurts at seeing their parent suffer, because we don’t want to admit they’re getting old. It’s a terrible transition process, yet so painfully beautiful when you witness someone able to gracefully love and care for the aged parent.

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      1. Share your poetry on your blog. I did a couple days back.

        Yes on parents. I feel sad but at the same time I do love being there for them. And there is much enjoyment in it. Deeply sad at times, but a very deep growing phase. Mum and I just talk such deep stuff and I love it. So I treasure the time.

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    2. I hate exercising though! I get bored! But I take your point 😛. I know you’re getting poo-pooed for the prompt thing, but I agree they can be helpful. Sometimes just a few words are enough to get the imagination up and running, and usually the result doesn’t even resemble what the prompt asked for.

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    1. Prompts. Where’s the synergy? Where’s the relatable? Guy describes a neutered WWII rifle showing up at a middle class anarchists’ meeting. Girl tells you she hotwired her little brother’s Yamaha 125 and drove it through a neighbors front door. The black kid bemoaning a shooting at little league football. The Russian dude stocking frozen food at Walmart who scratches his chin and says “Meat uh balls? Hokay” and drags you to fucking sporting goods.

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        1. Like they said. It ain’t me, babe. The sooner the muse is embraced the easier it all is. Paul McCartney said the only time he tried to write a song he couldn’t. I figure with over 300 keepers he knows whereof he speaks.

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    1. You’re not kidding, letting the characters talk really works. If I close my eyes, tip my head back, and watch what happens, something is bound to come. Forcing it never works. I’m not somewhere at this moment where I can listen to a video but I shall later when I’m home.

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  11. There’s no wrong way to write. Your ‘dash style’ is just another mode that you take in writing—which could actually end up as an outline. Then one day you flesh out one of those dashed comments and it becomes a paragraph. Then a chapter. A book. Ten books. Then you could end up like RL Stine with over 300 books. All because of a dash.

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    1. The dash certainly relieves a lot of pressure. It will also make it nonsensical to any nosy readers. And I totally forget about RL Stine! I loved his books back in the day.

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  12. Hi Hetty, I think you managed to bring out a hot topic among the writerly community. If you are a Pisces, I fully get you. If not, I still get you. (Not in a creepy dark gothic steampunk vampire way. I don’t do that to others, only myself). Having a lot of external stressors and not feeling the muse is the Bain of every pencil, pen, and keyboard. It messes up a lot of writers too. Hemingway had to drink a lot of booze all day long and hang out with sketchy people to come up with autobiographical fiction. I don’t recommend the Hemingway process. We all know how that turned out. What I do recommend is the suspension of writer rules until the stressors are less influential. At some point, the tragedies that unfold could spark a deeply introspective masterpiece. Other things that interest you can blossom into a seed of weed like wordsmithing, an uncontrollable growth of ideas. I am not a prolific writer of any note. My schedule is unreliable and at times when I force myself, I publish a page smeared with brown digestive stuff that only the most hardcore empaths will sacrifice their dignity and leave a like. It’s soul crushing to fail so dramatically. So to avoid the deep dark pit of a pointless existence, I write when inspired and keep quiet when I’m not. That is the antithesis of the generally accepted writer methodology, but my stress at not feeling the words flow is greatly reduced. I can be inspired by another person, a song, a work of art or a single passage in a book I’m reading or I can exist in a brain dead state wordless and no concept of existence in the next hour. I generally do my best work in the former and accomplish nothing but oxygen flow to distant cells in the later. That’s just me. That’s how I work. So, my personal recommendation is when you feel the magic of inspiration, don’t waste it. You’ll have moments where the spigot is turned off. No problem, go do something else with the intent of having unauthorized zenful fun.

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    1. I think you give the best defense of writing when the muse strikes that I’ve read. (I’m an Aquarius by the way–how could I be anything else?) The problem for me is that laziness is the greatest moving force in my life and once I lose a habit, it’s difficult to get back in. So I sort of strike a middle path between your method and the hardcore method. I too find it soul-crushing when your hardest efforts turn into crap. But I really only have ideas when the momentum is going. Therefore, my middle path is to simply slow down and go through the motions when I’m not feeling it. I might only write a bit of instantly forgettable diary-drivel, but I still went through the physical motion of it, which tides me over until the time when I’m feeling it again. For me, the few the nuggets can only be found among that brown digestive stuff.

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      1. Honestly, you do a great job of keeping that totally relatable and authentic feel going in your writing, which I dearly admire. If you were the fictional character you write about, you have a winner. You pull me in and hold the magic mirror up and I see myself wish for that opportunity to escape coworker drama and boss lady fails at human dignity to hide in the back room and count money that doesn’t belong to me. When I read you, my head elves get quiet and whisper, she knows us. Laziness is when one reaches nirvana and doesn’t want it to stop, avoiding the curse of endless rhythms of samsara, daily life. You’ve mastered it all so when you step and slide on a nugget in the poo of existence, there is your story. And speaking of wedding stories, I’ll tell you mine as a writing prompt. 🤓. My first wife and I had been together for 4 years before we wed. We decided a wedding trip with abstinence would be fun so we went on a camping trip with my parents and grand parents to the wild and free Buffalo River in Arkansas. We had an awesome time and my wife found a huge patch of poison ivy to pee in that gave her a view of the river and bluff. When we got home she had poison ivy so bad I had to take her to the hospital. Her private parts were the epicenter of doom and our plan for abstinence from sinful pleasure turned into a couple of months as she healed. When we finally decided to consummate the marriage we exploded with pent up carnal cravings. When we finally passed out, the bed was broken, our sheets were shredded, there were holes in the wall next to the bed and our Irish Setter was so traumatized she hid under the couch for two days. It’s all true and it’s a story that could be told. You’ll have something to write about that, like poison ivy, can never be forgotten. Some of the best nuggets are in those little side trips that depart from mundanity and enter the twilight zone.

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        1. Oh, that’s a crazy story, alright! Well, at least the anticipation was built up in a very unusual way! I think my brain is just wired to find some sort of hidden meaning in the most mundane things. Actually, that could be true. I remember reading somewhere about people with temporal lobe epilepsy and how their brain attributes salience to things that normally wouldn’t have that quality. Growing up I thought I was a visionary because I saw the meaning of life written in the patches of sunlight on a sidewalk or in a little solitary cloud moving across the horizon. Later on I found out it was all just randomly firing neurons. Medication helped some things but ruined the real interesting parts.

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          1. I think I should apologize for that TMI exposé. You and I share a common fate for our head elves and their view of the world. Mine was related to a few too many head injuries that caused a wonderful and dearly loved rewiring of my brain. It totally changed me and I actually had to learn who I was thru trial and error. Brain retraining has a lot of errors in the process. But, I too began to see the beauty of all things great and small and to truly understand the science of how our universe works and that freaked a lot of people out. I closed the door to generally accepted social mundanity to ride the waves of individualism. You have to walk this earth completely alone when your neurons work differently than everybody else due to random reconstitution. But, it isn’t a sad story at all. Once I got used to my new me, I enjoyed myself and everyone around me. I felt freed from captivity.

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            1. I can’t remember where I read it, in some creativity book or another, but the author wrote about “fertile limits,” and how we may have certain limitations we cannot overcome, but within those, we can flourish. (is that how it’s spelled?) I had to give up much of my prior self-image when I found out what my problem was (I rant on this blog a lot about epilepsy so I’ll spare you), and it was difficult, but now I’m not sad anymore, I just have to work within what I have.

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              1. You have a healthy outlook. And flourish was spelled correctly. Great word choice. I spent a lot of time breaking my limits and pushing them ever further out until I found myself alone on those distant edges. I just wanted to know how far I could go. You are right, we all have our limit and no matter how far we push that limit out, we come to the point where it goes no further and it is different for everybody. Living within our means and limits is good, comfortable living. As I get older my boundaries contract and eventually I’ll be scampering up and down the halls of my nursing home raiding the soft serve ice cream machine and every time nurse Cratchet catches me, it will be like the first time we met. Finally, I’ll be able to relax and get a brand new start in a brand new world everyday.

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