Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Stories in my Head

There is a place in my head where stories are stored. Stories to reveal themselves to me.
They are supposed to come down from that place in my head, travel down my veins into my arms, into my fingers, and use those to type out the magic onto this computer key board. Put the magic of the stories in the Word program, show them to me on the screen.
So I sit here, in front of my computer. So I sit here with my fingers over the keys. And yes, the fingers type. But where are the stories?

Is there a door in my brain that closes shut sometimes? Is there a rock in my brain that weighs too heavy to let anything through, or out? Is there a sensor in my brain that won’t let out certain stories? Is my brain overworked with blogging?

Blogging, the new sensation. Better than e-mailing. Stories from many people in our group and possibly from outside weave in and out. Conversations and cross conversations. Serious conversations, wild conversations, tickle the funny bone conversations. Memories, truths, fictions, everything goes. Not porno. No, we don’t do that. That’s not funny. Poems, prose, poetic prose, a swear word or two, all within reason.

Is blogging democratic Xena wondered. What is democratic? Democratic is when everyone has equal rights, equal say, equal input, equal value. That way I would say blogging passes. There is no dictatorship in blogging. No one tells you what to think, what to write, how to do it. There is no capital gain. No one gets rich money wise. We all get richer, wiser, learning from each other. Our imaginations thrive. We are communicating as free spirits. Blogging is mind expanding, blogging works.

Well, that was a blogger brain storm. But where are the stories ? Do I start like Snoopy? “It’s a dark and stormy night…” Snoopy never got any further. He suffered from writers block. On top of his dog house. Supper time ! Another excuse. Banging on Charlie Brown’s door, holding his dish. Maybe food for the stomach helps the creative process. Maybe. But not likely. More inspiration comes from hunger and poverty. Not too much hunger and poverty. Not so much that it degenerates you. Enough like in coming of age stories. Going into the woods without company or food and learn to survive, use hallucinations to learn from, find your spirit guide.

Your Spirit Guide can help you write. Can inspire poetry. Can inspire dreams. Can lead you to your best self.

Maybe I am not hungry enough. I’ve been eating more than I should. Sort of robs you of that hungry feeling that makes each meal a celebration. Sort of makes you feel a bit puffy, not very energetic. It’s a rather vicious circle. Don’t know what to write. Trying to think. Ah, have a sandwich. Don’t know what to write. I am thinking… ah have a hot chocolate. Some crackers and cheese to go with it. Don’t know what to write. What am I thinking? Is it lunch time yet? Don’t know what to write. Thinking that the dog needs a walk. First a cup of tea and some cookies. Don’t know what to write. What are others thinking? I should check my e-mail, and blog posts & commends, maybe…

Maybe I am tired. Maybe I should let myself get sleepy. Maybe between sleep and waking a story will be caught unawares. Or maybe in a hot bath stories will release themselves and come wafting at me on hot steam, break through the veil curtain, and make my fingers move to write down a hot adventure, a magic experience, a very funny story, a Valentine romance, the best cat story ever written, a doggone tale of man’s best friend, a story full of sweet flower fragrance…

But unless that happens, or until that happens, there is no story coming through these fingers, typing on this keyboard. No story. The dog is asleep. The cat is asleep. I am yawning. The computer tower is humming. Dishes in the sink are waiting. It is nearly midnight. Sandman come and get me. Send me inspiring dreams, exciting dreams, sweet dreams. Sand in my eyes, closing my eyes, good night. Will there be a story to write? With Scarlet of “Gone With the Wind,” I say, “I’ll think about that tomorrow.”

-

22 comments:

w.t. said...

Forgot to sign my name. It's Wild Thing. Wild thing made a big boo,boo. Wild thing forgot a commitment. She will not come to editing circle,Thursday, she just discovered that. She had just written "Stories in my Head" to bring. So, she sends it this way. Didn't want to retire it.

Xena said...

Hey WT - we'll miss you Thursday.

I have to read your whole posting, and I will tomorrow very carefully (and even lovingly), but I think Xena needs to expand a bit on her comment about where her thinking was going when she wondered about computers/democracies...

Countries like China are censoring blogs and other computer interaction right now, and people are being thrown in jail for what they write and say.

The US (and probably Canada, too) monitors emails, online discussions, etc., to keep a handle on terrorism (supposedly). Is this right? I don't know. If it were my life at stake, or a member of my family, or my friends, or my neighbour, or -- well, I'd want monitoring to occur - however, one person's concept of what should be monitored is very different from another's - and as artists, we know our work can often be misinterpreted and branded, that freedom of expression is so important... big tough questions.

And what role does culture play in deciding what should be monitored or even censored, or considered a criminal act, and what shouldn't? Is there a common standard that can be adopted for this new world we've created where there are no physical borders? And who decides?

wild thing said...

That's what I mean when I say, "On one side, computers scare the hell out of me." Yes our voices are out there and who wants to drag them through the dirt, endangers our lives because of them, can do so. My Mother expressed it: "Who ever wants to hit a dog can always find a stick." Aren't there little devils poking their fiery heads out of the flames trying to get Wayne Gretzky trampled into the dirt? Aren't they hissing messages in politician's ears and set them up against each other? Letting them do their dirty work? (See, even though I have my problems with C,S, Lewis, as may be found somewhere in Larry's Mental Blog, his literature is in me, in this case "The Screw Tape Letters.")And Xena, it is good to constantly keep these things in mind, to maybe not be scared, but always stay cautious. Living in fear plays in to the cause of the terrorists. Do the best we can with the means we have, be the kindest and helpful we can be, live what we believe in our direct surroudings, are things that may spell hope for the world we all share.

X said...

Ah, that the rub. It is true in all of life - if you want something too much in the moment it won't come. But I'm sure you, WT, will have many more stories to write, poems to write, creative things to say. Writing is an outlook, a way of watching the world, seeing stories, and then swollowing them. Taking them inside. You have the writer's eye.

A few days ago I thought, sheesh, maybe I'll never write another poem again. And then I saw this movie which haunted me, wouldn't let go, and twenty-fours later I have a poem - there are two stanzas I still can't get right (dear editing circle), but I have a poem. Hallujuah! Praise be! (And I mean that-).

The creative process has a life of its own, separate from personal will. Well, that's not quite true. Will plays a role. It's a wonderful balance between will and letting go... Maybe both need to be there, a delicate balance between chaos and form that is too structured.

w.t. said...

Suddenly it hit me, while scrubbing my basement steps whereon my dear Queen Aries had left her generous gift of green and yellow vomit, that George Orwell may have not hit the exact year, but certainly big Brother is watching us now through the all seeing eyes of the computer.

We cannot will the creative process. We need to be still to receive from it. We cannot look srait at it. We have to look askance. (That's a steal from the poet Pen Kemp.) Avoid dirct eye contact. Let it be. But we do need the will to bring what we receive to maturity. Pass on the message.

Does that make sense?

X said...

And God watches us too! LOLOLOL!

Yes, it makes sense.

M@ said...

Snoopy did, in fact, go beyond "It was a dark and stormy night," as in the following, his magnum opus:


It Was A Dark And Stormy Night
by Snoopy

Part I

It was a dark and stormy night. Suddenly, a shot rang out! A door slammed. The maid screamed.

Suddenly, a pirate ship appeared on the horizon!

While millions of people were starving, the king lived in luxury. Meanwhile, on a small farm in Kansas, a boy was growing up.

Part II

A light snow was falling, and the little girl with the tattered shawl had not sold a violet all day.

At that very moment, a young intern at City Hospital was making an important discovery. The mysterious patient in Room 213 had finally awakened. She moaned softly.

Could it be that she was the sister of the boy in Kansas who loved the girl with the tattered shawl who was the daughter of the maid who had escaped from the pirates?

The intern frowned.

"Stampede!" the foreman shouted, and forty thousand head of cattle thundered down on the tiny camp. The two men rolled on the ground grappling beneath the murderous hooves. A left and a right. A left. Another left and right. An uppercut to the jaw. The fight was over. And so the ranch was saved.

The young intern sat by himself in one corner of the coffee shop. He had learned about medicine, but more importantly, he had learned something about life.

THE END


If there's hope for Snoopy, there's hope for all of us.

w.t. said...

Matthew that is so funny! I wasn't 100% sure that Snoopy hadn't written more beyond the dark and stormy night. But I risked being wrong. The first lines seemed to ring a bell about a shot ringing out and a maid screaming... Then I wondered if you had made it up. It sounds like you. So I called my daughter in Frankford. Read her the lines. Sne recognized the shot and the maid immediately. But when I went on, (we both almost collapsed laughing), she didn't really remember. But said she is not totally reliable in the memory lane either. We all (me and my kids) were faithful Charlie Brown followers. Woodstock being a favourite. But me, I lived 5 years in the boonies without newspapers, radio or TV. Could've missed it.

So, Matthew is the magnum opus truly Snoopy? Or is there Matthew in it?

Who else remembers?

Seems we all agree that, no matter what, there is hope for humanity.

M@ said...

No, it's 100% Snoopy. I worked at a library in my wild teen years and they had an absolutely beautiful Snoopy anthology, and his novel-writing sequence must have been a month's worth of daily comics. I remember he would also comment to the reader about some of the lines. I've looked for these comics online but have been unable to find them.

(And the Snoopy book was discarded from the library -- I remember going back to look for it a few years after I left the job, and it was gone. Sigh!)

Anyhow, if you'd like to read it online, you can find it here. But mine's formatted better.

w.t. said...

Cool! I believe you. It's too bad that libraries get rid of good stuff like that. I know of several books that have been discarded over the years of which I really wish they'd still have them. I'm going to try to cut and paste Snoopy's Magnum Opus In my word program. Have a copy for myself and send one to my daughter and come think of it another one to my son. Thanks Matthew. I will scrawl through the Snoopy-on-line stuff, just for fun when I have some time to play with.

Larry Keiler said...

M@, explain to us how you pasted that link in the comment. Please.

BB said...

Oh Oh Oh HUNGER....

and writing...okay, if I come home from work and have a big supper or dinner, I wont write. I am done for the night. I may read but I won't create.

If I wish to write from 6 to 8, I must not eat until after 8.

Eating makes me satisfied that I am done for the night.

Thats just me. And I am weird..

bb said...

So yeah hunger helps me a bit... but writing requires energy too and a focused mind...

I find a manoeuvring around the blog a bit difficult. I get to spend time reading the blogs and comments on the weekends. So I go back and read all the blogs and comments.

But how do you get back to the last blog. Well today I found that If I go to the very top of the blog and click on the BIG Dove TALE writers, It takes me back to the last Blog Posted....

Thought that might help others, as they are moving back and forth thru the blog....

w.t. said...

The last blog posted is always the top one, the first one you see when the blog page comes up. And then it goes down to two or three earlier ones. And then you read the topics at the left sided column and click the one you want.
It gets a bit complicated in mental blog. Larry Keiler seems to write daily and you need to pick different topics to find earlier ones, 'cause the list is only so long and on clicking another topic, you may find the topics in the list that aren't on another page. With a snaily computer like mine, that may take a while. And sometimes I let it go for later when there are other things to do, or when I get computer struck.

Was that what you were talking about, BB? Or did I misconstrue you? Wow, that could be a line in a poem or song!

bb said...

Yep the last blog comes up but when I go back to read previous blogs then there is no visible sign of returning to the last blog posted.

So, I found by clicking on Dovetale writers at the top I return..clear as mud eh?

w.t. said...

Yes, I tried it. You get the Dovetalewriters page and then click blog again and then it comes with the latest blog. That works.

We're going to be the smartest bloogers on line. (Hey how do you like the word bloogers?) OK, make that bloggers. We may get so good that China is going to conspire against us and make us their target. Between the Chinese regime and the ghosts of Loretto we should be shaking in our shoes.

Larry Keiler said...

Larry sez if you want to find older postings, best go to the archives. Click on a month, and you get all the postings for that month. Kewl, eh?

Kermit said...

Speaking of stories in the head....

"I have a lot of great memories from the swamp. I remember when I was little, we'd all just sit out on our lily pads for hours and hours, rocking gently on the water and listening to the soft, sweet sound of chirping crickets.... Then, of course, we'd eat the crickets... but that's another story."

Kermit said...

How I got into the Story business...

"When I was a tadpole there was really only one thing that I collected. I had a file of newspaper and magazine articles on Frogs in Show Business. It was a small collection, but I think it influenced me a lot."

crickets in chorus said...

"We hate frogs!"

w.t. said...

"To find old postings best click on archives" you said Larry. But where is 'archives'?

Larry Keiler said...

ok, wt. archives is the section right underneath Recent Postings, left side of screen. on both blogs.

Larry sez, "kermit, you kill me. am not, however, cricket."

Beware the revenge of Jiminy!