I am oft reminded that I am not musical. I remember it well when I am with others, and won’t dare to ruin any composition with my voice or instrumentation. But even alone, I cannot muster a sound or two that does not fit the definition of caucophany to the point of pushing the extremems of its meaning. I am not musical.
I recently watched a video where Christopher Hitchens said that he was not musical, and was also not a novelist. He said that he had observed that the people who are novelists, tended to be musical as well. Thus, he defined himself, a prolific writer, as an essayist.
I think I fit this, and fit it well. I cannot muster the imagination and the ability to sustain it to create characters and then follow them through a plotline. THis is purely anecdotal, of course, but it seems to fit.
It is nothing to me to get up in the morning and to clear my mind on a keyboard, filling a screen with whatever comes to mind, or whatever was on my mind before getting out of bed and pretending I am concious.
This morning, I could not put more than a thought or two in order before getting up. I know it is meant to be a hot one today, and if I am going to get anything done, it is going to have to be tackeled in the morning hours, before the sun has stolen the workable daylight hours and cast them into a dismal furnace. Still, writing comes easy.
“What do I write about?”
That’s easy. Write whatever is in mind. There is something in mind, isn’t there? Write it. Even if there is no particular order. That is what editing software is for. The imparative is to get something from the brain to the fingers to the screen. Do it, if for nothing else, but to practice the art. It may not be good. It may never be great. But it is better to make it happen to make nothing at all.
A school child can say there is nothing to write about. There is always something to write about. Write about the knot in your shoelaces. Tell about the lace, the way you have inserted the laces into the shoes, why they are that way, where you learned it, and any other creative ways you have tried, and why. Tell about who taught you to tie the laces. Tell about why you do, or do not put a knot in your bows. Do you fold the bow and turn the second lace around it, or do you make the bow and tie them together? Do you like the way they lay when you do? Do you even tie your shoes at all, or do you wear only slip ons, or just slip on a laced shoe? Are boots your thing? Why? Are the comfortable, or necessary, or both? Does walking make you happy? Does it make you suffer? There is so much to say, and no two people would write the same essay.
If anything is difficult, it is taking a complex subject and breaking it down into an ordered essay, pleasant to read, concise, informative, and something that adds value to the reader. Without citing Arab proverbs about elephants, the point is much the same, to take it a bit at a time, outline the thing, and get to the chore of writing it. It is likely best to section it off, and write each topic in the ouline. Of course, what do I know about it, as this is also a difficult task for me to do. So, I’ll tell you what! I’ll make a project, and see what I can do and then present it later. Let’s see if I can string together many thoughts without boring myself to death. I’ll even try to pick a heavy topic, so as not to cop out with some lightweight task that any school child could do. Please don’t expect it till next year, though, in case it does turn into a project of some magnitude.
Right, Missus just put in her breakfast request, and said she is starving, and I cannot let that happen.