Just a weird Wednesday collection of rambles. Plus, a new cause du jour:
Work-flow:
Writing about writing is a dangerous process. Plus there’s the idea that writing about writing is tantamount to mental masturbation. And the fear that it will chase the Muse away.
I write horoscopes. Fell into the job, and then got paid for it. Then there’s the whole roller-coaster of history. It wasn’t until I was working on a concept, teasing an idea, writing, erasing, writing, toying, then ripping it all apart and starting over, that I realized what a limited medium this can be. Words. That’s all. No pictures. No sound. Just words. Plus, the self-imposed constraints look like they’re running around 200 words per sign, usually as little more, sometimes a little less, and the scopes fall out in a single block, in another manner of speaking, 12 signs, 200 words. Plus introduction, date and links? Very occasionally, I’ll break the 3K mark for a weekly column, mood, moon and other factors weigh in, but that’s all a self-imposed limit of some kind. Not like it’s a target, just round numbers I’m working with.
That means, in a single year, I’m turning out a whole book-length manuscript.
The other evening, I had a brilliant concept for a weekly theme, only when I sat down to implement the brilliant idea, what I ran into was the constraints of the medium. What the form lends itself to, and what it doesn’t lend itself to. Another great idea. Poof. Gone.
But it was a good concept.
Top ten list:<
Oh but this is from a favorite, and hopefully will inspire another list. Except I’ve been blogging regularly since 1998, and the archives prove that.
Marketing point: I’d like to think that astrofish.net is produced in a safe environment, using only green electrons, wherein a few atoms get stripped of their shells, but not real harm is done. Likewise, I’d like to advertise that it’s a “sweat-shop” free environment, but the cat won’t agree. I can verify that it’s 100% local owned and operated, and no child-labor laws were broken. At least one person of adult-age (me) has worked long hours, but as one of my sig lines says, “A lot of work goes into making this look effortless.” Unrelated:
Oh, this is most exciting news. Then again, I’m easily amused some days.
Hardware lust:
Yes, I like the new machines, and yes, I’d like one, but no, I can’t justify it this week. Best of all, though, is the new name. No, not MacBook Pro, or whatever, but ICBM. Intel Chip Based Mac. So I want a portable ICBM.
High points:
Sometimes I lose track of why I do what I do, and why enjoy it so much. When I was finishing Highway 61 Resurfaced, there was a scene, towards the end of the book, see, there’s a lawyer in the trunk of the car, and this guy is arranging for a, and never mind, it was funny. To me, anyway, I laughed hard enough to disturb the cat asleep on my stomach, and I had to put the book down for a minute.
The next morning, I got the exact same visceral reaction from something I was writing, for a near future horoscope, and then I realized, after I enjoyed a belly laugh, that -one- no one would get it, -two- the people who did get it would only smirk, and -three- it doesn’t matter. I amused myself.
