Perpetual Ruminations

Monday

Well it looks like I didn't make an entry yesterday, but not sure how that happened. I seriously thought I had written in here. But, in reading Saturday's post and then trying to remember what I wrote about I realize that I didn't. Good intentions and all that, but no entry. I would say I'm losing my mind, but that's not it, not at all. It may be some kind of side effect of writing, however.

This same thing happened last Sunday, therefore I can do a comparison and see what both days had in common and why they influenced my journal writing. Besides being the first day of the week, Sunday is the first day of the weekly writing challenge; the 52 week challenge that I joined. Every Sunday a new image is posted for a prompt for us to write a fictitious story about. Last Sunday was the first day and the first image.

Since I had medical appointments on Monday and Tuesday, I was eager to start and was hopeful to get something written on Sunday. It worked out well, the image was put up early and by mid afternoon, I had my rough draft done and by late afternoon, I had my item posted and was done. It still needs to be edited, but it's done. This Sunday the image was up early again, and since I have another medical appointment on Tuesday, I wanted to get things going right away, again. It was difficult, but I managed to get a whole story written and posted by late afternoon, again.

So, each day I wrote a story, I didn't write in my journal. It makes sense why I think I wrote in here, because I did write, but it was a story, not an entry. It feels good to be writing again, but it's very tiring, too. I never really realized how mentally tired I can get from writing a story. I suppose I never gave it any thought before, and since I was writing much more often, it just seemed normal. I don't remember how it was back in college, when I had Composition classes, but with all the other classes, I probably never associated writing as being tiring.

But, about three years ago I changed careers and found myself in a job that was brutal on time. I just didn't have any time for anything other than work. It cut into both my writing and my social life, and even though I tried different things, it just would not work out. There were times, short and far between, that we had a full crew and I had a bit of time. But, it was always short and unpredictable;it was always used up by other things than writing, too. In fact, there was very little writing done at all over the last three years, and as time passed, it became more and more difficult to write at all.

Finally, this year, we ended up with a full crew that actually seems to be working out well. It took half the summer to get to this point, but we made it. I say we, because my wife also changed careers and works at the same place. She has done a lot to help me out and free up more time for other things. I'm the site supervisor, but she assists in many ways and even steps in when needed, to fill in as supervisor.

So, by mid July, we had a good crew and I was able to change my hours around. No more getting up before time; I opened for the last few years, which requires me to be up at three in the morning. This in itself created better use of my time, since I wasn't dead-tired all the time. I also cut my hours back, working three days a week. the idea was to fill in if needed, but to free up more time to focus on writing.

It was starting out well, but I was so burned out that the first week I didn't do much at all except enjoy some down time and do yard work. I also spent a lot of time with my wife, Rhonda, during her three days off that week. The following week she only had two days off with me, but the other two I had off were again spent relaxing and just kind of adjusting to the change. By the third week of this I was getting ready to put in some hard work on studying grammar and working on some writing. But, first we, Rhonda and I, had five days of vacation time to enjoy.

We went camping, had a blast, and for the first time in three years, a real vacation. Even better, no interruptions from work. But, while hiking one day, I found myself in a lot of pain. It let up soon enough, and we finished our camping trip with no problems, except a little pain at the end. I had injured my abdomen in May, and it never did heal up right. I knew I would have to go in and get it checked, but was waiting until after our vacation. Now there was no more waiting, I would be going in soon.

Our vacation ended Friday, and Saturday it was back to work. Only, with the pain and problems, I wasn't able to work my closing shift. I did work a few hours in the morning, but it was difficult to do my job, and I couldn't do it well. It was clear that I was going to have to remove myself from the schedule, since I was unable to perform my duties according to policy. I also went to see a doctor the next week.

They in turn ordered scans and tests and set me up to see a surgeon, who I go see tomorrow. But other than the medical stuff, I haven't been able to do much of anything. Although there is slight discomfort, as long as I take it easy, there's not much for pain, so I know have lots of time to spend writing and reading.

Ever since mid July I've been meaning to write a bit, read and review, and work on my editing skills. I have read and reviewed a little, but I have't been motivated to do much with the grammar lessons I set myself up with. Even worse, I couldn't get motivated to write. It wasn't like writer's block, it was like something was broke and just wouldn't work. Normally, there's ideas, and I pick one that moves me, and things just flow. It's like a normal body function for me to come up with story ideas and write about them. Like tapping an Artisan Well, once it starts to flow, it just keeps on flowing and I get lost in the flood until I finish or something rips me away.

I knew I needed to find a way back to that well, but nothing was working. Then I seen this 52 week writing challenge. Perhaps this would do the trick. It would give me a prompt, which helps, and it would also motivate me to try hard, since there's a time limit. At the same time, it's not based on the quality or the story and editing is not required. Not a contest, but a challenge to write something each week. I joined up, eager to see the first image.

Also, to further motivate me, I donated a ton of gift points to the group putting on the challenge. Okay, not a ton, but a lot. In fact, only if I complete the challenge will I be able to win back everything I donated. So, if I meet the challenge, I break even in gift points, but if not, I lose out; pretty good motivator. But, what's the purpose if I only can win back what I gave out?

Yes it's true, I cannot gain in gift points, but if I'm writing again, I win! So far, I've got two stories done that just need editing. Two good stories, not gibberish or just something tossed out to make the challenge. that's more than I've written in the last year, hell last two years. This alone is well worth the amount of gift points I spent -- and more.

But, after such a long time of not writing, I can see the process much better now. Sure, it depends on the prompt and my state of mind, but I know now, it doesn't just flow like I always thought in the past. No, there is a process and I'm learning to not only use it, but to control it. the first prompt worked great. I looked it over, let it kind of stew in my mind and soon ideas were flowing around it. I found one that I liked more than the others, and soon details began to form. Soon, I had the beginning of the story, how I wanted it to start. Next, I seen the ending, and knew where this story was going. All I had left was to fill in the middle; to join the beginning to it's ending.

The second prompt was so good. Not that the prompt itself wasn't good, but it didn't stir any ideas. I did the same process, but only one idea formed, and it was lame. Seriously, it was nothing more than one, already used by another story, little strand that had no place to go.

Again, I let the image stew in my mind while I spent some time outside with the dogs. Finally, an idea began to form, but it was just bits and pieces, nothing I could use yet. I picked through these pieces of idea and tried to add different parts until finally a couple fit together. I was now working on lunch, and took a break from my thinking while I ate. After, while doing dishes I pulled this idea back out with the few bits I had added. it still looked good, and soon I had a whole string of add-ons; I had the beginning to my story.

Next, I got on the computer and opened up my word processor and began to write. It flowed well and I soon had a nice start to the story, but it didn't have any direction yet. Where am I going to go with this, what outcome do I want? An answer came, I could now see the ending, so I opened a new page after saving my beginning. I wrote how the story needed to end, and soon enough the details of the ending were also saved. I was on a roll, but the phone rang.

Yes, interruptions can destroy my writing process for the day. But, with the medical stuff going on, I needed to check who was calling. It was the surgeons office confirming my appointment and soon enough I was back at the computer ready to pick things up again. I had just started joining the beginning to the end when the phone rang again. I held fast to the images I had conjured up and looked at the caller ID; my brother.

I haven't talked to him since before we went camping, so I figured I should answer and talk to him for a while. Don't get me wrong, I really enjoy my brother and we get along well, but when it comes to the phone, he just doesn't say anything. He calls, but spends most of his time not even saying anything. I often have to ask if he's still on the line, thinking with so much silence, we must have gotten disconnected. He will say a few things, but there is a lot of nothing in between. Then, when I try and end the one sided conversation, he starts to talk and I can't get off the phone. His calls usually last for about a half hour, with twenty minutes of it in silence, the last ten are me trying to get off the phone.

So, with me writing, I really just wanted to keep on writing, but since I had all this medical stuff going on and had not told him anything about it, I decided I better talk to him and fill him in. he talked a bit about fishing, I told him what my week looked like as far as joining him, and why I needed to talk to the surgeon. Then it was silent until I finally asked if he was still on the line. "Yea, I'm here.

That was it, then more silence. I found a few other things to talk about, he would acknowledge things with one or two words, but other than that, more silence. It was now going on four o'clock in the afternoon, and I knew Rhonda would be calling after work, between four-thirty and five. I was eager to try and finish my story but suspecting it would have to wait for today. I told him I should get going, and sure enough, he acknowledge my comment and then talked for ten more minutes before I was finally able to hang up.

At five minutes to four I went back to my story but by now the images had faded and I was looking at one page with a beginning and another with an ending but no string left to tie them together. I poured a cup of coffee and took the dogs out while I worked at the images I had had before the interruptions. Soon one was floating in my mind and then another and another. It wasn't the exact same as I had come up with before, but it was close and had most of the same details. I went back in and typed until the phone rang again.

This time it was Rhonda, calling as I had asked. We discussed dinner shortly, then I told her I was just finishing up my story and she told me to get back to work, she would pick up what we need. Just a few minutes and I was back to my story, and it was still flowing. Finally I had the middle written in, then it was a copy and paste for the end.

I read through it, made a few changes where the two parts joined, and saved the document. The story was done. I had just logged in to WdC to add it to my portfolio and link it to the challenge when Rhonda pulled up. Of course the dogs got all excited, and there was no doing anything until they got out to see her. So, I stopped and let them out, gave Rhonda a kiss and helped her bring in her stuff.

Once inside, she asked if I had finished the story. I told her it was done but not in WdC or posted to the challenge yet, so again she sent me back to work to finish up. By the time she had changed out of her work cloths I was done. I read through my story in my port and seen a couple of things that needed to be changed. Once changed I saved and updated my copy on the computer to match. Rhonda came in and I read her my story. She liked it, and I think was just as excited as I was.

After all this work, I was beat. Not physically tired, but mentally. I had never seen directly how much effort and energy goes into a story or any serious writing. Even here, in my jpournal, I find my mind working, but it's the work I love.