Let the Antics Begin!

Since this is my maiden voyage, I'm not sure where this blog will go.  I'm just going to let my fingers do the walking and the final destination will be a surprise.  I imagine I'll cover a gamut of topics, including family, work, personal things, inane tidbits, life in general.  Since I try not to be a serious person (all of the time), I can guarantee most of my ramblings will be laced with truthful humor and fun poked at myself and others.  Just remember, if I'm picking on you, I like you.  I've written "personal essays" before, posted long-winded paragraphs about my thoughts, feelings, various points-of-view, related silly antics, but one of my real loves will always be writing fiction.  


When people say, "You just can't make that shit up!" I say, "Yeah, I can."  Although my fiction muse has been on hiatus (personally, I think she's in a drunken stupor on some tropical island, shacked up with the pool boy, the lucky wench!) for a number of years.  On the rare occasion she'd send a postcard or even call, I'd pretend not to be home so I wouldn't have to deal with her.  You see, when the muse comes calling and I respond, her whacked out ideas become cemented in my brain.  So much so that a jackhammer souped up by Tim "The Tool Man" Taylor would barely nudge them.  Those thoughts, ideas... the characters, the dialogue... They will not leave me alone.  Once they're in my head, they stay, worse than a nasty booger you just can't flick from your finger.  NOT that I have nasty boogers wedged in the gray matter.  I like to joke (that should not be a surprise to anyone!) and say I have plenty of voices in my head, thanks.  I don't need "Madam Muse" adding even more.  


I'm not what people would call a "flowery" writer.  Which goes right along with my personality - I don't hold back & tend to give you my opinion even if you don't want it.  Sugarcoating is for candy.  I don't (and won't) give you paragraph after paragraph of how purple the flower petal is.  To me, that's crap.  A waste of time and a nose-thumb at the reader's intelligence.  Some description is necessary, yes, and it's good to give a sense of the environment and details to establish surroundings.  However, in my opinion (be it ever so humble) it is the writer's job to allow readers to think and create visualizations themselves.  The writer coaches.  The reader makes the play.  The better a writer is at allowing readers freedom in perception, the more a reader will become attached to the story.  When that happens, the reader becomes a fan.


*putting my Writer's Soapbox away* 


In truth, I've missed my muse.  I've missed the people in my head vying for attention, demanding their story be told.  I've missed the feeling of fingers flying across the keys, yet always a few steps behind the conversation.  I've missed the words, the entire creative process, the combined feeling of accomplishment and sadness when a story is finished and "the end" is typed.  


I don't know if I'll pursue writing as actively as I did before.  At least not that type of writing.  Right now, I realize I can't allow myself to become consumed by the muse's wiles, to become so ensconced in putting pen to paper (so to speak) I wouldn't be able to do anything else but write.  There's a balance I need to find, one I'm not sure I'd be able to manage at this point in my hectic life.  I'm committing to blogging, and, as a wise person reminded me of what a wise person once advised them, to write at least fifteen minutes a day.  I do know that writing has always been something I enjoyed, something I not only understood and could do very well (some people refer to me as the Spelling Nazi and Grammar Police - I even have a badge!), but also something I felt very passionate about.    


Oh, look... it's a postcard from my wayward (and obviously very suntanned) muse.  The heifer.  Scrawled across the back in large writing:  "Wish you were here."  Here would be a white beach near crystal blue water, palm trees and an umbrella drink near the hammock.  I can do without the umbrella drink.  I don't do sweet.  I will, however, substitute a beer in the picture instead.  Ahhh, yes... much better.  Wait... there seems to be something else my muse has written at the bottom of the postcard.  "Welcome back."