Day 30: The One With the Family Meals

While I've all but abandoned Camp NaNoWriMo, I think it's only fair on the start of the month to keep numbering as I began. Day 30 of the month, and I spent a considerable amount of time with family members over meal times.

This might not seem like such a big deal, but with my brother moved out of the house and the remaining four of us working varying hours and often not overlapping, meals in which we all get to sit down together aren't all that common. When my older brother is there, it's an even rarer occurrence. It's not that we don't see him, it's just unusual for all of us to be together at the same time.

While lunch was just McDonalds, for the first time in God knows how long we all sat at the kitchen table and had a cup of tea. Actually, that might be the first time just the five of us sat at the kitchen table and had tea. Normally, only four of the six chairs at the table are accessible without the table being pulled out - which usually means guests over for dinner. Back before my older brother moved out, we didn't sit at the table for tea, and we pulled out the table when everyone was eating at the same time. But we didn't keep it that way.

Today, we pulled out one of the other two chairs. It was oddly comfortable, despite the fact that we've all been together a lot over the past twenty two and half years. I guess I miss that, all of us getting to sit around together with the television off, just talking.

I didn't write today, but I didn't really intend to. I've yet to write a poem, but I'm still on Total Relaxation Mode. I figure I'm allowed to be calm about things every once in a while.

Anyway, I figure it's about time I mentioned here that I intend to start a poetry blog. I'll be writing some stuff specifically for it, and probably doing video readings for it, too. I've still got to set it up, of course, but it's going to happen, and a lot sooner than any of the other projects I have in mind. It'll take a lot less upkeep than the other projects, so I've nothing holding me back with it.

That'll be fun, right?

I'm still trying to decide what platform to hold it on, though. Part of me wants to make it ad-supported, but that would mean (a) using Blogger or (b) buying a domain name for to use a Wordpress site and hosting it on my server.

I'm still arguing with myself over that one. I might not even make it ad-supported, since that wouldn't really bring in much money anyway. I would just be spending money for the sake of it. With the ads out of the way, I pretty much have an open choice on the matter again. But what do you think? Blogger, Wordpress, or Tumblr?

Day 26: Baker, Poet, Cinema Goer

Could I tell you where the day went? I could not. Could I take a guess? Darn tootin'.

I know I spent a lot of time watching Buffy. Again. Season 3 has now been watched, complete with prom and school explosion. I will admit, I got a little bit emotional watching it. Aside from the flashbacks to childhood, it also reminded me of my final year ball. We had less demons.

In the midst of the final episodes of the season, I also put a cover on an old-but-unused-copybook, complete with card on the inside covers, and coloured paper on the outside. I'm using it to track the publication - if any - of my poems. Since May 30th, I've written 70 poems. I'm hoping to do a massive write-a-thon of poetry soon in an effort to increase my creative expression. I'm talking about more than a poem a day; I plan on writing about twenty to twenty four poems in a single day. In my head, it sounds like fun.

Part of me also wants to maintain a poetry blog. So, that might happen soon.

Aside from prom and poetry, I baked some brownies. I'll be brief: they're delicious, and everyone who's had one agrees. I brought some to the cinema. We went to see The Wolverine. How was it you ask?

Well, it was significantly better than Wolverine: Origins. It was better than X-Men: The Last Stand. It was violent, it had swearing, it was better than the trailer suggested it might be. There were a couple of things I didn't like - nit-picky comic book things - but overall it was fun, and the after-credit scene leads on nicely to Days of Future Past, which is going to be awesome.

All of that aside... no writing. I don't know if I'm just lacking enthusiasm to sit down at my laptop, or if I'm just being lazy. It's probably laziness. However, I'm not giving up on the book. I just need to get my head back in the game.

To be honest, I want Camp NaNoWriMo to be over. It's not making me more productive. If anything, it's making me wary of doing anything else. Which is exactly what the exams did to me in May. That's less than convenient. Hopefully I can get The Blood of Leap completed soon, and then I can get on to doing what I want with writing, when I want, without a month-long challenge hanging over my head.

How Did FUFDay Go?

On the second time around, Face Up to Fear Day was less successful. However, that said, I forced myself to do a couple of things.

The big one was to record a poem for my YouTube channel that'll serve as an introduction to who I am. I figure that was something I should probably do, even if it meant having to put my face out there again, and try to figure out what to say. Since I plan on putting up a fair bit of poetry on the channel, I figured it was a good idea for a video. You can watch it below.

I still cringe at how up close it is, and how poor the quality of the camera is. One day, I'll be able to replace my set up.

Incidentally, the other bit of work I did today was to write the copy for a couple of gigs for Fiverr (which has just updated its model, so not everything is $5.) I'll be launching both gigs (as they were called the last time I checked) tomorrow, and I'll probably have to create a web-page to support them both on my website, as a way of driving traffic to them in some way.

I've avoided doing it in the past, for all the usual reasons, but I think I'm finally ready to do it. Plus, with my current working situation, I have plenty of time to address this sort of stuff.

While I didn't get to do everything on my list (again), I think the last-minute work I did tonight (after a less-than-exciting day) has paid off towards something. In the spirit of the day, I'll keep on working tomorrow. That's the point, after all. I'm supposed to be doing these things all the time, and for whatever reason, I haven't been able to of late.

Tomorrow's another chance to get things right. I wonder how many super exciting things I can get done in the space of a few hours.

Smile

Some days it's just easier

To smile and say goodbye,

To the memories and fantasies

And ideas of you and I,

Without asking too many questions

Of the how and why.

Deep and Meaningful

Is it just me, or is it a mistake to try and sound deep and meaningful in writing? Maybe it's just that I don't really feel about myself that way. I'm not talking about writing have multiple layers, mind you; I mean trying to enforce a philosophy in a book or a poem, trying to get an idea out there that only ever makes sense in the context of the writing.

Considering the poetry I've written this year, I've tended to go the opposite route, writing about personal experiences and thoughts in my head, and aiming to write about that very limited - but not necessarily shallow or meaningless - moment or relationship. (I've written a heck of a lot of poetry this year, rather than fiction, so there'll be something of a focus on the poetry in this post, I'm afraid.)

I've been writing a lot about friendships, more specifically the ones that didn't work out (more commonly than those that are ongoing and wonderful.) Sometimes, there have been explicit references to events in my life, other times it's been a more general "me and you" poem that, rather than dealing with the specific reasons that relationship imploded upon itself, I've tried dealing with the idea that a relationship, more generally speaking, has ceased.

This leads naturally on to wondering what it is about me that caused any of these friendships to fail. I try not to dwell on that - I know it's not healthy - but it does come up. I speak about myself in metaphors when it comes to that, but again: it's not an attempt to be deep and meaningful. I'm not trying to say something about life. I'm not trying to explain why X happens to everyone. It's a personal exploration of my flaws and faults, but in the context of everything else, what it was about the other person that might have made these particular aspects of my personality so...negative? Unbearable?

It gets to be a bit too much, but you know what? It's just me.

Maybe, you might argue, it is meaningful. And sure, I'll bite. There is - there has to be - some meaning to the poems. But it comes from me, and it's only as deep as anonymity and the vague essentials can reach. That, dear reader, is a shallow pool indeed, in a majority of poems.

What certainly needs clarifying is that I don't set out to write a poem to say something to the world. Often, for me, the poems just "happen". Yes, I do have to think about the words to use, but the essence of the poem is there already, and that's what makes me write it. There's something within me that needs saying, and the words slot into place more easily, even when I sit down and attempt to force something onto paper.

I've tried the grandiose statements about life and death before. Tried it, and failed it, because it doesn't come naturally when my experiences are what they are: mine. Attempting to speak about generally about something so universal as life and death, or the lackthereof of either, is to generalise about the billions of individuals, the uniquely constructed bodies, souls, minds and personalities of our species. There is nothing "general" about us but our anatomy and our surveys.

I'm not saying we shouldn't attempt to talk about life or death. I'm not saying we can't talk about our species. I'm not saying that, as writers, we can't be "deep" or "meaningful" with our work. What I am saying is that we shouldn't set out to do that, especially not if we haven't first lived a deep and meaningful life. While it's not always true that we should write what we know - because (a) that could be boring and (b) it's not necessarily going to be the best story/poem/article we could ever write, especially not if we've lived a sheltered life - but in thise case, maybe that's a good idea.

Frags

I spent my evening not watching Doctor Who, but at a book launch. Dave Lordan's 'First Book of Frags' provided not just a chance to meet again the legend and madman that is its author, but the opportunity to relax with friends and discover exciting new poets and performers from Ireland.

My mind is blown, and my heart bursting at the promising future for Irish literature and performance.

I too took to the stage, little realizing what was to follow. I read, quietly, two poems, one about being drunk (written about being drunk) and the other about leaving college.

I don't often identify as a poet, or read my own work publicly, but I think I did okay. I didn't quite wet myself, so I figure that's a little victory.

Those who followed, who I had time to hear, have made me want to write and perform more poetry. That doesn't happen very often.

I may make it my goal in the summer to do it every day for a month. Maybe not always live, because that's a somewhat terrifying prospect, but at least on YouTube.

In case it hasn't been obvious, I have been blogging every day this month. The challenge to write and publish something every day is not beyond me. Poetry isn't quite the same, of course, but I have managed forced creativity in the past. I do it regularly actually, because I have to write something. So maybe I'll manage it.

Honestly, I didn't expect to even set myself that challenge. The Frags did it. The Frag King will be responsible, if he even realises the monster he's created.

I'm yet to even read the book and its making a change in my life. Let's put it simply: I can't even.

The Answer is...

In accordance with my New Year's Resolution to write every day in 2013, I've found myself writing even when I didn't really want to. If I've been at my laptop, it's easier to force myself to do some work (except for  tonight, for some reason, when work just seems disgusting, so I'm writing this instead...) However, it's happening more and more often that I don't even switch my laptop on, sometimes for three or four days in a row.

The biggest problem with that is that I do most of my writing on my laptop. While I can use my tablet and keyboard anywhere, and have written blog posts in bed using them, I find it much more annoying than if I'm sitting at my laptop. I also can't write flash fiction while using my tablet, because I can't accurately judge how many words the story has. I don't like writing fragments of pieces on my tablet, so I can't write a novel/novella, and I can't concentrate when I'm in bed on writing an article or a chapter of a non-fiction book.

So what do I write?

My Twitter followers and my Writers' Soc friends might already know that the answer is...poetry. Which really surprised me.

I have never really considered myself much of a natural poet. I once tried writing a poem every day, and the end results were too awful to share with the outside world. However, more recently I've found that I can more easily express myself in poetry, and I tend to enjoy it more than I used to. I've written, if I counted correctly, 21 poems this year.

Okay, it doesn't seem like a lot when you add it all up, but considering the fact that's probably more than I wrote all of last year I'm pretty proud of myself. It's become a more comfortable experience, even though I'm usually lying uncomfortably in bed while I write in an A4 pad. I've written poetry about friendship and alcohol and relationships and Dublin. I've explored the weirder side of my mind, the feelings I've been hiding from myself, and the notion of death as someone I might have known from school passed away.

Overall, it's been a weird but fulfilling experience, and it has led me to the conclusion that anyone can make an attempt at writing poetry, and if they're honest with themselves they might actually produce something worth reading or listening to. The feedback I've received on some of my poems has been positive (I can't say anything about the poems people haven't heard or read or given feedback on, so... yeah...), and I didn't really consider myself much of a poet to begin with. Occasional poetry was the most I ever had to my name.

Now I'm a bed-time poet. If I haven't written anything on a given day, I pick up the notepad and pen and just start writing, not trying to come up with something clever half the time, just letting the words come out as naturally as possible.

If you're in a situation like I am, where you want to write as much as possible but find yourself without the time to write anything, there's an answer available to you. The answer is poetry.