Of course, as soon as I start writing it will be far less a blank canvas, but you know what I mean. I was thinking of the moments, minutes, hours where I sit here, wondering what to start writing about, before that spark of inspiration.
I sent my 'Depression' series, in full, to V. She asked my permission before showing it to one of her friends at work, and they both said that I should submit something to a competition, publisher or whatever, and that my writing was wasted doing what it does (ie, here LOL). V then spent the next twenty minutes looking for writing competitions I could enter myself in - there is one in the UK offering a hundred and fifty quid (damn not having the pound key LOL) or one with the Australian Women's Weekly offering a top prize of ten grand Aussie, for something between three and five thousand words, from the perspective of a woman.
Maybe I do need that push or something, because otherwise I would wait to be 'discovered' in my little corner of the web here (which is very unlikely to happen, let's face it) or hide behind the fact that every blogger is a writer waiting to be discovered, so I shouldn't jump my place in queue, especially since most of those who are seemingly discovered do stuff like sex blogs, which is so not my subject matter.
I need a good opening line, a good plot, good characterisation, and a good genre to write about, if I even think about starting a short story competition piece. V sent me through a winner in the tertiary category of some competition last year, and said surely you can do better than that. We will see - I would love to do all that sort of stuff though, and be good at it. I just need a push I think, in some other aspects of my life as well perhaps.
Or sometimes I think I could possibly write stand up routine instead, Seinfeldesque LOL. Of course, Seinfeld itself, the show about nothing, is so 90s, and I don't think would have made it in the post 9/11 landscape, but it made it when it did and was damned good.
For instance, I had a haircut today. Now today I was wearing glasses, so had to take them off while my hair was being cut. I always sort of worry when I can't see what the hairdresser is doing, but today especially she was shearing me like a sheep, being very thorough about it, but still, a feeling of being shorn. And then, the thought crossed my mind that despite all the dummy runs they have in hairdresser school, surely there is a time when hairdressers have to cut a paying customer's hair for the first time. This girl looked about sixteen or so, and it may have been my own worry, but I thought that her hands on the scissors were shaking.
I thought about it further, and it was earlyish on a Monday, and if she had been hired straight from hairdressing college the Friday before, maybe she had been shown the ropes the first couple of hours she was there before being let loose on my hair. If she had even been to hairdresser school in the first place, maybe her certificate was a dodgy internet scam. She had seemed tentative on the clippers as well.
How does that length feel she said, and I, being blind, said it felt good - what else could I say that would not lead to me needing a skinhead? I got out of there as quickly as possible, and have kept rubbing my hair all day since, is there too much off or not - I can't see the back of my head, and she didn't even do the usual 'mirror how does that look at the back' routine. Hopefully my friends at work aren't too cruel about it all.
Eh, eh? Seinfeld anyone? Or is it just me LOL. It was supposed to be a quick minute stand up piece, but the length of it would be a monologue by George I think, and it would be a running joke for at least two or three more episodes LOL.
Comments, as always, most welcome.
Paul
I sent my 'Depression' series, in full, to V. She asked my permission before showing it to one of her friends at work, and they both said that I should submit something to a competition, publisher or whatever, and that my writing was wasted doing what it does (ie, here LOL). V then spent the next twenty minutes looking for writing competitions I could enter myself in - there is one in the UK offering a hundred and fifty quid (damn not having the pound key LOL) or one with the Australian Women's Weekly offering a top prize of ten grand Aussie, for something between three and five thousand words, from the perspective of a woman.
Maybe I do need that push or something, because otherwise I would wait to be 'discovered' in my little corner of the web here (which is very unlikely to happen, let's face it) or hide behind the fact that every blogger is a writer waiting to be discovered, so I shouldn't jump my place in queue, especially since most of those who are seemingly discovered do stuff like sex blogs, which is so not my subject matter.
I need a good opening line, a good plot, good characterisation, and a good genre to write about, if I even think about starting a short story competition piece. V sent me through a winner in the tertiary category of some competition last year, and said surely you can do better than that. We will see - I would love to do all that sort of stuff though, and be good at it. I just need a push I think, in some other aspects of my life as well perhaps.
Or sometimes I think I could possibly write stand up routine instead, Seinfeldesque LOL. Of course, Seinfeld itself, the show about nothing, is so 90s, and I don't think would have made it in the post 9/11 landscape, but it made it when it did and was damned good.
For instance, I had a haircut today. Now today I was wearing glasses, so had to take them off while my hair was being cut. I always sort of worry when I can't see what the hairdresser is doing, but today especially she was shearing me like a sheep, being very thorough about it, but still, a feeling of being shorn. And then, the thought crossed my mind that despite all the dummy runs they have in hairdresser school, surely there is a time when hairdressers have to cut a paying customer's hair for the first time. This girl looked about sixteen or so, and it may have been my own worry, but I thought that her hands on the scissors were shaking.
I thought about it further, and it was earlyish on a Monday, and if she had been hired straight from hairdressing college the Friday before, maybe she had been shown the ropes the first couple of hours she was there before being let loose on my hair. If she had even been to hairdresser school in the first place, maybe her certificate was a dodgy internet scam. She had seemed tentative on the clippers as well.
How does that length feel she said, and I, being blind, said it felt good - what else could I say that would not lead to me needing a skinhead? I got out of there as quickly as possible, and have kept rubbing my hair all day since, is there too much off or not - I can't see the back of my head, and she didn't even do the usual 'mirror how does that look at the back' routine. Hopefully my friends at work aren't too cruel about it all.
Eh, eh? Seinfeld anyone? Or is it just me LOL. It was supposed to be a quick minute stand up piece, but the length of it would be a monologue by George I think, and it would be a running joke for at least two or three more episodes LOL.
Comments, as always, most welcome.
Paul
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