Category Archives: The Unknown

Writing Life: Time Frittered Away

© 2013 by Raymond Alexander Kukkee   [caption id="attachment_1654" align="aligncenter" width="584"]Sunrise on Fire Sunrise on Fire    photo © 2013 by r.a.kukkee[/caption]  

Somehow, deep in the procrastinating mind we come to a default conclusion it is more satisfying, fun and entertaining to....


Time Frittered Away- Unawares, too...

Every  content-maker, fictioneer, scribbler, keyboarder paperwaster -writer on earth does it. We  eventually realize at some point in time --that a whole hour, day, or week--even a month-- has been frittered away unawares.  By simple distractions. A succinct instinct for self-preservation draws us ever further afield.   Without negligence, per se,  without thought, pre-planning or malice.  Without prejudice or casting negative dispersions on the pressing labour  at hand, which is, for all  interested, composing, creating, and yes indeed, even writing stuff.  Should we be worried? Panic?  Blame writer's block? No. Let us instead contemplate, wink at work in inner peace with a smile and mollify the disturbingly itchy, unrequited urge, nay, the obligation to write something, anything right now.

Where would YOU be?

Sadness may be close at hand --but best ignored--when we discover we could have  been famous,  incredibly rich, more productive to get into practicing a different profession, like brain surgery, dog whispering, pizza delivery, or rocket science, but let's ignore that. We're the driven.  Writer-driven, muse-driven, pen-to-paper-nose-to-the-keyboard-driven,  --the satisfied driven.  Driven Writers R US.  So with satisfaction, let's consider what lost time did to us. In overview, we probably could have written another satisfying paragraph, chapter, blog post, poetic verse, brilliant article  or song.  Somehow, deep in the procrastinating mind we come to a default conclusion it is more satisfying, fun and entertaining to have guests, drink coffee, play with pets, diddle in the garden, sort stuff, or fiddle old songs out in the fog whilst admiring the potatoes growing.   No, actually, fog and serene gardening and potato rows and bagpipes go together better, everyone knows that.

Make a Note of That

I always wanted to learn to play the bagpipes. There's an aside worth thinking about. I'll make a note of that.  1-Get bagpipes, 2-don't forget earplugs.  See?   I get distracted easily, and that's how time frittered away. Well, this morning, that is. No matter. We blog, pause, play with the pups and admire the sunrise on fire  instead. Much better. Today, at least. I smile and hit the keyboard again.  I'm making headway, 'knowing thyself' and all that. #   Is that Incoming I hear? photo by author  ©2013 +
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Writing Life: Discover a Treasure

© 2013 by Raymond Alexander Kukkee   On the middle of the floor there was an open treasure chest and with two horrible trolls sitting

What do You write about?  Discover a treasure.

The mind deludes and fantasizes;  the eye deceives.  On a daily basis writers come to wonder what to write about, how  we may discover something new, anything that may be fascinating.   Surroundings in reality may be mundane,  even dull.    We may be tempted to introduce the unorthodox or outrageous in an atmosphere that is serene.  We may  introduce fantasy and excitement into the ordinary, magically create the  unusual,  and  pretend to see what is spectacular myth.  I'm not really a troll-believer or a fantasy writer.  The muse suggests we search for  the gem instead; discover a treasure,  that special something that may be just outside the box when the writing mind balks. The dreaded writer's block enters the fray. Which form of writing do you consider worthy of your time? Fiction, poetry, screenplays, or short stories?  No matter--choose and enjoy. Discover a treasure within the mind. Where in life should the effort of everyday writing  be concentrated? I wish to officially savour a process;  the investigation, a correlation and assembly of fact and fantasy.  I  take pride in organizing diverse subject matter with relish. In the writer mind, disconnected facts easily  leap gaps of time, logic, and comprehension. It is late spring, not fall. The garden is planted. No colored leaves, dappled sunlight on red apples among them, but it can be if we make it so. Let us allow distraction for a moment.   Let us create time and place, and discover a treasure. Wide-eyed kids giggle and happily check out what first may appear to be a line of dull, ordinary vendors at a country fair,  music,  tools, tractors, vegetable displays. Horses and chickens, pigs and peacocks. Antique, brightly painted motors run; old iron,  the smell of burning oil, wood-carving clubs demonstrating proud carvings of elephants, swans and moose.  Little old ladies knit but eat hot dogs,  ice cream, smile and nod at passing candied apples  and elephant ears, floppy pastries white with dusty icing sugar. Chatter rises and subsides with the music....  We write about country fairs with relish, after all,  the main course was imagination, wasn't it? Wait. Wait....think....maybe I know more trolls than I thought.  They terrify fair maidens in castles.  Trolls guard the drawbridge --and a fabulous treasure chest, the air is cold and damp down in the dungeon. Water drips,  it works on the mind...a skeleton slumps from manacles on cold stone, death  in chains. When will they come?

See what happens? Distraction.  Disconnection.

Place yourself in any location, at any time. On a skateboard out of control, on a Harley, the open road, or climbing a volcano on the Ring of Fire.  The unexpected must be expected; the unknown is required to encourage the mind to work. Curiosity, temptation, experience;  all push exploration of the mind. Stretch the limits, ignore comfort zones, and discover a treasure.  Plead insanity. Sneak past the trolls. [caption id="attachment_1613" align="aligncenter" width="800"]The Hoxne Hoard  -Treasure Chest The Hoxne Hoard -        Discover a treasure...[/caption]   Interestingly, how valuable your treasure becomes depends on what is done with the jewels and coin when the rusty lock is broken. The treasure chest of the mind is opened. The treasure is in sight--spring or not. I should have stayed at the fair. My chains rattle.  They are coming...the mind deludes and fantasizes; the eye deceives.... # Is that Incoming I hear? Photo credit 1     Artist  John Bauer 1910 2     Mike Peel ( +
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