Timing
Ok, so I've been doing my best to be a bit religious about writing a little something here everyday (not sure about weekends, there may not be much here on the weekends). For some reason, the time I have "chosen" is just when my daughter is waking up from her nap and I am in a bit of a mad dash to get things done before I have to bring her downstairs.
This can't continue, can it? Hmm . . . I do seem to vaguely remember that I did what I considered to be my best stuff at the last minute. The work that I created where I had plenty of time to labor over a carefully chosen word or get the description just right, I hate. Yes, I use the correct word. I hate that stuff. I wrote it. I photocopied it. I distributed it to the class. I even read it out loud. And I hated every comma, every period, every capital letter moment of it. I can't even bring myself to read these pieces in my Great Big Binder of Written Stuff. I roll my eyes and sigh and quickly turn the pages in embarrassment.
Oh sure, there are a few sentences worth saving, a turn of phrase here and there to re-use in some more acceptable piece of prose. But, my God, how I hate those pieces.
I enjoy the works I created when I had a deadline looming. Namely, it is 2 a.m. and this thing is due at 10 a.m. tomorrow morning and I haven't even written a sentence sort of piece. I had to be more efficient. I didn't have time to play around with some grandiose metaphor that the writer knew didn't work but left it in anyway because "It's creative". Overstuffed is more like it.
Which explains why I have "chosen" this time period to write. The baby is babbling to her dolls in her crib, I hear her and I know she is hungry, but patiently waiting for Mom to pop into her room. Sorry, Dear, I just need one more minute that I don't have to get this out and - "DING" the deadline clock has announced the end of its shift.
And, yeah, I like it.
-Posted by Linda
This can't continue, can it? Hmm . . . I do seem to vaguely remember that I did what I considered to be my best stuff at the last minute. The work that I created where I had plenty of time to labor over a carefully chosen word or get the description just right, I hate. Yes, I use the correct word. I hate that stuff. I wrote it. I photocopied it. I distributed it to the class. I even read it out loud. And I hated every comma, every period, every capital letter moment of it. I can't even bring myself to read these pieces in my Great Big Binder of Written Stuff. I roll my eyes and sigh and quickly turn the pages in embarrassment.
Oh sure, there are a few sentences worth saving, a turn of phrase here and there to re-use in some more acceptable piece of prose. But, my God, how I hate those pieces.
I enjoy the works I created when I had a deadline looming. Namely, it is 2 a.m. and this thing is due at 10 a.m. tomorrow morning and I haven't even written a sentence sort of piece. I had to be more efficient. I didn't have time to play around with some grandiose metaphor that the writer knew didn't work but left it in anyway because "It's creative". Overstuffed is more like it.
Which explains why I have "chosen" this time period to write. The baby is babbling to her dolls in her crib, I hear her and I know she is hungry, but patiently waiting for Mom to pop into her room. Sorry, Dear, I just need one more minute that I don't have to get this out and - "DING" the deadline clock has announced the end of its shift.
And, yeah, I like it.
-Posted by Linda
posted by Ed at 3:15 PM
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