Category Archives: The Human Mind

Writing Life: No reason to procrastinate

© 2013 by Raymond Alexander Kukkee   [caption id="attachment_2320" align="aligncenter" width="480"]A black suncatcher with winter scene Suncatcher in Winter     photo© 2013  rakukkee[/caption]  

 " The blank mind  stares you in the face...what to do?"

 

Writing Life:  No Reason to Procrastinate

Writers.   Truth be known, it’s becoming ever more apparent we’re a strange bunch, --although admittedly creative.  We write, struggle, procrastinate, drink too much coffee, and have an unquieted thirst for knowledge. We may appreciate news, drama, foibles of human nature, even foolishness at times, but above all else, life.  We observe and write simply because we love to, no matter the topic. Bitty-small, large or megalithic, hot or not, ideas of all descriptions flood the creative mind,  ideally  overflowing  onto paper and screen alike.  A veritable river.  Alas,  the same creative mind arbitrarily and inexcusably shuts down, goes on sabbatical, or even an extended vacation…usually at the worst possible time. The blank mind stares you in the face, what to do?

When creative pickings are slim, fluff   just doesn’t cut it, disappearing into that big hole in the sky. Some ideas are fleeting, disappearing before being fully understood.  Has that ever happened to you? Some are static, almost motionless,  akin to a slow river, forget that idea, I don’t have waterfront property to stimulate the mind.  Lazy ideas move, with the lifelessness of deadwood. Really bad ideas cause even more procrastination; they drift until they become  waterlogged and submerge themselves in files, the ones in dusty cardboard boxes  labeled dull and unviable;  re-read,  re-think, re-write,  research.  Hm…search old files, another excuse to procrastinate. Happens all the time.

Interestingly, and a contradiction,  ideas may be dead weight,  sunk as expected –but curiously pique and fester, stuck in the craw like a fishbone. We play word games and pay attention to those.  Some may be worth reconsidering, yank them back into the boat. Perhaps they are intended to act as signposts or anchors to keep us from fleeing the incredibly interesting writing life.

Anchors are necessary at times to keep us from drifting over waterfalls to disaster, or into other, frankly less-interesting occupational choices.  Would you assemble bicycles down at Wheelies or fry high-end hamburgers instead? Want cheese with that? Become a rodeo clown hiding  in a rubber barrel?  Weld beams on 120-story office towers or stay grounded, be a  crusty 20-team mule-skinner,  a prospector in Canada, or a farmer?

The fact is, every occupation  in existence, however dull it may seem  offers another life experience. With open mind, every material thing from slick, virtual touchpad- qwerty- screens  to clackety old brass typewriter keys, the old round silver ones with capitals under plastic, guns and roses,  ancient creaking wooden wagons -- has a place and raison d'etre in the writing life Feel the keys. See the screen. See anything?  Look again. You know what I mean. It’s all in the observation. There’s really no reason to procrastinate.

A Dearth of  Topics?  Not believable.

“But I don’t have a thing  to write about!”  is a common complaint, but think about it; perhaps  it’s really just a reason to procrastinate, to delay committing to writing something.

Need a topic?  They surround us dailyGet out of the garret for an hour. Watch people, their reactions, how they speak, how they act. What remains unsaid is often more important and handily demonstrated by body language.  Observe carefully.  Topics are everywhere. Ideas are yours for the choosing. Think magic.

Look for topics variable in  anything and everything;  controversy, love, politics, space, rural life, city streets, crime and punishment,   ladders to the stars,  romance, fear, fiction, poetry, people,  disaster,  time, freedom, movies, banality, modernity, ancient rhymes, modern times, nurseries and bursaries,  dusty old novelists, beautiful, hot, modern poets,  Mother nature,  religion, apple pie and mom, music,  families,  the promised land, explorers, sand, fire ants, the world’s sexiest islanders,  volcanoes, war, peanuts & popcorn, gardening and green thumbs, education,  bread and sweet butter pickles, things that tickle.  Serious wedgies,   stir-fried veggies, candy-apple red paint jobs on Mustangs parked at drive-in burger joints and mini-skirts on roller-skates bringing icy root beer, "ain't she great?"  all come to mind.

Write about  diamonds, cabbages and kings,   drive-in theatre sex, drugs in the sky, Sun-catchers in winter-- why?  Peach pie, green eyes, revelations and revolutions, baking  pork chops,  pyramids and Cheops, pizza, poverty and politics,  races, sleds, king-sized beds, Olympians,  fishing fools and fun,  thought-streaming education of minors, Asian carp, musical harps big and small, occupations and distractions, lemonade stands in July, or earthquakes, desires, sloughs and quagmires, migrations of  geese,  tsunamis,  race horses,  college courses,  authors, books,  and the homeless in New Orleans. How to raise chickens in the back yard might come in handy too. Art Nouveau,  the history of pajamas,  buildings with  outlandish gargoyles,  plundering dinosaurs,  the Red Light district in Amsterdam,  Russian brides,  gay pride,  bronze monuments in D.C.,  why vitamins were invented,  Fukushima vented, the Renaissance, water, Einstein,  pollution  solutions, Great Walls, wallabies  and whackos –are all homeless ideas wandering about, waiting for you to offer them a word, a sentence, a flash peek, some insight, a paragraph, page, or even a whole book. Still stuck?  Take a minute, make a sandwich, munch on cookies. Pet the cat, cruise the net, run the dog, read the list again. Get it?  Glean as you clean. Write stuff.

Failure to float an idea is not an option; write ten lines about snoozing on a luxury yacht in the Mediterranean –quickly now, before you realize that yes, you’re still sitting up there in the mother-in-law’s  garret in sweats, the pet house- mouse nibbling your last crust of bread  before your bloodshot eyes.   If all else fails, write about compounding grey matter, synapse development, getting smarter, how to be a genius in one easy lesson,  mind-seizure in hot, dry garrets, ‘brain for rent cheap’.   Why writers shouldn't live in hot, dry garrets.... Let us not forget writer’s block, the last remaining subject and port of call for the dejected, rejected and worried writer with a blank screen and that itchy cursor that annoys both cat and wireless mouse.

What will I write about next?  How about what hasn’t been said before? Rant or recant.  "The world is my apple"  I say,  " I’ll happily share it with you, take a bite. Get a taste."  You may like it. Eat and savour everything but the seeds if you like—always save the seeds. Start your own collection.

As an avid gardener I like collections of seeds. Piles of them. A moving, morphing hill of ideas that germinate when sprinkled with unabated ambition.  They offer hope, and even the most decrepit, unlikely seeds grow sometimes,  creating new variations of the same old same old  --and offer amazing surprises.  Forgotten and unique varieties emerge, each with it’s own beauty, flavour, quirks and benefits. Planting seeds and ideas hurriedly, even tossed haphazardly into necessarily disjointed, imperfect rows and ignored totally- does seem to work miracles upon occasion if they fall upon fertile soilAdd the bewares, pull the tares.

Writing is like that. You never know what is going to sprout from an offhand  comment, a whisper,  an overheard argument, or an  ‘I got-kicked-in-real life’  complaint,  which can hold whooping revelations.

Psst….as in gardening, it does help to have a sketch, a plan, and direction.  In the writing life, you need a plan-- but not one written in stone or even scratched in dirt. Timing is critical. Write furiously when inspired. Haven’t we all heard that?  Get out the notepad and jot down a few ideas, dream up a few pointers, combinations, permutations.  Think freely. Thought-streaming. Check out your unexplored mind. Yes, we all have one.

There’s no reason to procrastinate, so let’s get to it. The first ten words are the most important to me.   Done.  You can do it too,  so now-- what will your word #11 be?

Go ahead, take a chance, hazard a guess. You’re a writer. A strange one.

Is that Incoming I hear?

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Posted in Life, Reflections, The Human Mind, Uncategorized, Writing Life | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

Perception: Milestones and Minutiae

© 2013 by Raymond Alexander Kukkee [caption id="attachment_1998" align="alignleft" width="1000"]101st Hymers Fall Fair 101 st  Annual   Hymers Fall Fair    Banner courtesy of hymersfair.com[/caption] Perception is everything, isn't it? Hot-wired , the air was crackling, dry and cold, it felt like the end of a summer lightning-storm on September 1st,  perhaps a bit too chilly and refreshing.  Regardless, off to the Hymer's  Fall Fair we went,  hoping Winter 2013 would hold off gobsmacking us  for a few hours;  if nothing else out of respect for dedicated and happy annual fair-goers. A complete contradiction to the bright, smoking heat from only a couple of days ago, skies were dull, fast-scudding gray, with erratic bits of cold, reluctant sun. Not fair-going  warm by any standards, the morning could have been much worse, a storm advisory with heavy rain and hail pounded a few unlucky spots the day before. Optimism and hope for a bright, dry fall fair day prevailed in spite,  --after all, attending the 101st annual  Hymers Fall Fair in Northwestern Ontario is a worthy afternoon, a family milestone in itself. An opportunity to observe humanity at it's best. Never miss milestone events or fall fairs. Great advice for writing types.  

The horse show takes us for a ride

[caption id="attachment_1997" align="alignleft" width="275"]Hunter-jumpers  photo courtesy of tbt newswatch.com Hunter-jumpers                           photo courtesy of tbt newswatch.com[/caption]   Hunter-jumpers,  impeccably-groomed, preening young women wearing formal riding habits sit mounted, backs arched,  patting  the necks of tall, perfectly-brushed, glistening horses. Guiding and encouraging  their mounts over discrete, timbered pole jumps neatly bracketed with  hay bales, flowers in bloom and tall fluttering cornstalks, potential faults and refusals, the competitors race against the clock.  Riders  frown, smile, concentrate, inwardly twittering,  nervously trying to  avoid the distraction of  waving  folks huddling  in the bleachers behind the whitewashed 3-plank fence. Distractions are aplenty, a kaleidoscope of people, moving, settling, chatting, mesmerized by flying horses and sophisticated pixie-riders alike, some observers voraciously consuming fries with ketchup,  yellow-mustard-slathered corn dogs on wooden sticks or nursing steaming hot coffee in plastic cups. The smell of food.  No matter.                                                                                                                       Thundering, flashing  hoofs, elegant riders; first second and third prizes, red, blue and white ribbons, blushing pride, great ride, no faults, folks, perfect seat. Perception. A keen sense of achievement, rides and ribbons made far more valuable with friends watching,  knowing, nodding approvals,  congratulations, appreciation and the occasional smug smile. What a ride...come back tomorrow, folks, see the heavy horse show....

Minutiae: Construction of an agricultural fair milestone

Children of all ages dally in the special playground with petting zoo, artwork tables, finger paints, challenging wooden stilts, sand and climbing challenges. Proud mothers in bright dresses sport smiling babies in backpack carriers, happy little painted faces display blue birds, big black spiders,  sun-faces and flowers of all colors on rosy cheeks giggling under slouchy  sun hats. Play and laughter, --pealing bells of laughter, perhaps including poignant echos of  long-gone children playing the same games a century ago.  When is the last time you tried walking on wooden stilts? The Hillop stage, music, singing,  the tallest sunflower contest kids get in free with a sunflower, down below,  the big display,  big pumpkins, best blueberry pie; and row upon row of colorful  preserves in sparkling glass Mason jars, bread &butter pickles,  hot peppers and peaches. First, second and third,  red, blue and white ribbons attached to white tags and cotton string tied with bows.  Orange ribbons too,so many fourths,   "outstanding effort" cookies,   bread loaves, offerings of all description, including buns, apple pies with slatted pastries, and look at those  tediously-decorated cakes. Fair-goers of all descriptions  walk narrow display aisles, nodding, proudly pointing out ribbons, whispering, admiring displays of grandchild art, oil paintings by gifted souls and seniors, wood carvings, floral arrangements,  intricate knitted sweaters, socks and afghans, all  behind mesh wire. Apples galore,  five beans on a plate, purple, green or yellow, no more, no fewer,   bunches of carrots, tops beginning to wilt, onions, potatoes, tomatoes and  proudly-tagged zucchini, cabbages and corn, bottles of homemade wine, kiwi, cherry, blueberry and elderberry. We examine participants of endless agricultural displays, routines and competitions set up, practiced, and admired for 101 years. "Not bad, how are'ya?"   Friendly rivalry; wizened old farmers, knotted, gnarled hands carry diamond-willow walking-sticks, in for the dairy cows and calves show,  animals competition, goats, sheep, rabbits, chickens of all descriptions;  a once-a-year meeting-place of smiling, silver-haired grandmothers, musicians play  Mr. Tambourine Man on the main stage, kids, gawky, awkward teens holding hands, visitors and locals alike, at the moment,  neighbours all. [caption id="attachment_1996" align="alignleft" width="225"]Antique engines Antique engines[/caption]   Characters abound at the  Tired Iron club display.   It is  just down the path toward the dininghall it is, (Roast Turkey & Roast Beef dinners complete with pie from 1-5pm ) Antiques, a row of small, even tiny ancient steam-engines, painted brightly, with heavy flywheels turning,  hit & miss engines fire erratically, puffs of blue smoke, chugging,  jiggling, dancing in the grass like bouncy children delighted to be able to play once a year.  Six horsepower was enough in those days to drive a canvas grain-grinder belt, washing machine or a water pump,  but now drive only the memories of ancient men and their genius, the imaginations of fair-goers  and the  fascination with the hobby of proud mechanical tinkering-types wearing engineer coveralls and smoking pipes. Milestones. This was a good one.  101 more reasons to return.   The temperature rose to the occasion, the sun came out, thousands of visitors attend the two-day family fair, bad weather or not, no exceptions,  lineups at the concession stands swelled, hot-dogs, smoky sausages,  hamburgers, elephant ears, exotic Asian food,  fries, ice cream, kettle-corn and coffee. "Thank you, come back next year", vendors selling crafts, ceramics, wooden toys, local artisans proudly display their own and internationally-hand-made jewelry, exotic trivia,  clothing, Canadian maple syrup, all things good. How about genuine hand-made wool socks and aromatic soaps?  A basket of blueberries?   A 'ticket to win it', want to win an ATV, or the $1500 attendance prize, are you feeling lucky? Perception,  milestones & minutiae, one of the oldest little fall  fairs in Ontario, even Old Sol comes out for the occasion and stays simply because it's fun and  it's  the 101st.  Laughter and music echoes across the fairgrounds from times past...... Lady Luck and volunteers have taken care of the details  for the Hymers Fall Fair-once again.....  It's all good. See you at the fair next year!   Is that Incoming I hear? +  
Posted in Humanity, Life, Publishing, Reflections, The Human Mind, Writing Life | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments