2018 - In Remembrance

On this blog, you won’t find any entries to mark 2018’s passage. Some say this year didn’t happen—but I am here to tell you, it did.

For me, 2018 was a year of changes. For one, I was on a break between full-time jobs. Late 2017 my IT Manager job of many years ended abruptly in a financial lay off that took about 40% of staff with it. The good news is this layoff came with six months of severance pay so I could take my time to figure out what to do next.

The first half of 2018, for me, was kind of a test run on other jobs, and maybe also a test run on what it will be like (for me) to be retired. I hope I make it to see that day, because I really enjoyed the taste of it I had in 2018. During that time I got to explore new opportunities, but also spend my time doing only exactly what I wanted. It was liberating.

A few things I can vouch for, that happened (in my life) in 2018:

• Being an Intro to Creative Writing teacher—which I loved. I am so appreciative of the whole experience: Hamline University, my students, and my fellow teachers—and the whole chance to be emerged in thinking about/teaching/talking writing.
• Job hunting: Writing resumes, going on interviews, taking career assessments, attending job fairs and networking lunches and coffees.
• Getting a new job as a tech geek at UMN
• Living life. 2018 had graduation parties, a funeral, a wedding, a car crash, birthday celebrations, and a retirement. I also played billiards, climbed a rock wall, and attended a couple rock concerts.
• Writing: much of my writing in 2018 revolved around starting my thesis. As my thesis project I chose, Sunlight, my book project that I’ve written about in this blog a few times. Through thesis I added to, revised and honed the first third of this book—and got lots of feedback on it from my professors, but also members of the Scribblerati. And our writing group met to talk writing and give each other feedback 4 times (that I can recall in 2018).

But in 2018 we didn’t blog. No, no, no. Maybe 2019 will be different? Maybe not?

What was 2018 for the other Scribblerati? For you? Anything you’d like to remember—or forget about it?

I look forward to your comments on a year I know happened, when blogging didn’t.

Mark

@manOwords

Why Blog?

At the end of our last writing group meeting, the Scribblerati all fessed up that we haven’t been that great about keeping up with our monthly blogging assignments.  We once again got into the territory of “what’s the purpose of blogging” and “why blog?”

I’m not sure we came up with a definitive answer, but here’s a response from me on why I blog—I wrote it a while ago, but it still holds true for me today.

Why I Blog

By Mark Teats

I blog because I have no choice. Blogging is addictive like alcohol, crack, or nacho cheese Doritos.

I blog because it’s the right thing to do.

I blog because good blogs don’t write themselves.

Bad ones don’t either.

I blog because once as a child I ran headlong into a sharp-cornered wall at full speed, knocking myself unconscious. If I touch just above my forehead, under my hairline I can feel the cleft in my skull where my brain tried to leak out, where it was permanently damaged, and more particularly, the region of the brain that decides if you blog or not. Brain damaged? You’re probably a blogger.

I blog because George Takei has not posted anything fun for me to repost in the past hour. Don’t worry, my other geek friends who also follow Takei will share, post and repost many times as soon as George has found another jewel. We’ll all know. Ohhhh Myyyyyy.

Because all the really good material in my head is gone and only the garbage thoughts remain. Blogging is kind of like taking out the trash. You get rid of that junk idea and make room for the new, shiny, good stuff.

Because the crap in my head is more interesting than the crap in your head. (Scott Adams said something like this, once. It’s true, right?)

Because I agreed to do this once per month for my writing group.

Because blogging is what you do when you can’t get on with the real writing.

When blogs are outlawed, only outlaws will have blogs.

Blogs don’t kill people—oh wait, yeah, they kinda do. Only on the inside. The “little death,” I think the French call it.

I blog because everyone in the world wants to know what I think.

I blog because NO one in the world wants to know what I think.

I blog because of the 356 blogs I follow and seldom read. Sorry my brothers/sisters in blogging arms. I’ve failed you.

I blog because once as a four-year-old child I got on my trike and rode, the wind in my sun bleached hair, and I almost got away, free from my parents, from The MAN, made it a whole mile, close to the river that could easily have drowned me, before a kindly old man, a stranger spoke to me, and said, “Young man. You’re a long way from home. Shouldn’t you be somewhere blogging?” He was right. I turned that tricycle around, put on my shades and pedaled for all I was worth. It was another 25 years before I saw the Internet. But I was ready. Good blogging starts young. It starts at home. It knows the fury of a runaway child on a red tricycle; it knows the kindness of a blog-loving strange old future-man who smells like ass and day old donuts.

I blog because blogs don’t write themselves. If they did, I’m guessing they would blather on about something no one cares about. They’d post themselves frequently, and never be read. By anyone. EVER.

I blog because the technology is there. Computers are like genitalia. You were given this equipment for a reason. Use it. Flail it around. Get the feel for it. Yes, yes, yes, that’s it! Hit post. Hope you used protection.

I blog because every time I blog a buxom, bat-winged, red-skinned succubus in skintight black nylon and high, high heels, gets a new cat o’ nine tails. Ouch! Or so I like to imagine. Do I smell sulfur and brimstone? No?

I blog because it’s the “In” thing to do. Everyone is doing it. Do you have a blog? Why not? Come on! Don’t be a chump! Blog early, blog long, blog frequently, outright rant, go on and on and on. Don’t hold back. Still no blog? You are so sad. You make puppies and angels cry.

Don’t be confused. It’s time to blog. It’s always time to blog. Now. Blog. Come on! Do it, do it!

I blog because I am immune to peer pressure.

I blog because of that one time I drank too much, and almost died. I had a vision; I was a disembodied soul, floating in the void. Everywhere there was blackness, darkness, nothingness. I was reduced to spirit, pure energy, as I whimpered, “I want to live” and a voice—was it God?—spoke unto me, cut through the darkness, all powerful, all knowing, said unto me, in a voice not unlike Morgan Freeman, or Jim Caviezel, or some other actor whose name escapes me who once played God or Jesus in that bad movie once, He said, “Blog. It’s the only way to go. Now get back there and stop wasting my time.” I’ve sworn off Jager Bombs ever since. But I still blog.

I blog because everyone wants to know about my favorite episode of “Kolchak the Nightstalker” (it’s the one with the invisible space monster, or maybe the one with the boogie man) or about when they should stop reading the original “Saga of Swamp Thing” comic books (about episode 21 is a safe place to stop, they got kinda stinky and or eco-preachy after that), or what my favorite Stephen King book is (The Stand, or course).

I blog because it’s a word count race to the death and only the swiftest of bloggers will make it to the finish line. Blog eat blog, as it were.

Blogging, the gift that keeps on giving, the curse that has no end.

31 million of us bloggers can’t be wrong. That’s in the USA only. Bloggers in other countries are not counted. They do NOT matter. In exotic countries like Uruguay, Macedonia, and Columbus, Ohio if you blog and the government finds out, you’ll never be heard of again.

I blog because I could not stop for Death, and he has not yet kindly stopped for me—so in the meantime I have plenty of blogging time to kill.

I blog because I’ve always wanted to disappoint my parents and had neither the courage nor talent to go into acting nor the ability to become a poet laureate.

I blog for love.

I blog for life.

I blog for the pursuit of a really good French dip with fries, and maybe a Coke.

I blog for you. I’ve always done this for you. A perfect, selfless act. I was never there when you needed me, but you let me go, and I came back, like that butterfly in that saying, and here I am, just a boy, with an eight pound head, standing in a doorway, the black gaping void doorway to the infinity of information and porn that is the Internet, putting it all out there, giving it everything I’ve got for you. To live the dream, to write the unthinkable, the unpublishable, the unfathomable, to write about that which will never be seen nor spoken of nor cared for again.

To blog.

No.                                                         

That, that’s not quite true.

None of this was for you. I’m lying.

Nor was it for our blog’s one reader or 37 followers.

No.

I blog for myself.

Only for me.

~Mark

@ManOwords

professional blogger to the stars

PS> OK you bastards. It’s your turn to blog. Get to it.

Getting back to it

Recently I broke my computer.

This is not to be confused with the time my computer died. That time was the laptop's fault. It was old and slow and not meant for this world anymore. But this time? This time it was my fault. I went to open the cover and instead of doing that, I just kind of pushed it off the table. Luckily, I had paid for Tech Support previously and the various replacement doo-dads and what-nots were not too expensive. Plus, it turns out I really am blessed with wisdom of the very Gods, because I had thought to put my Microsoft Office download code in an obvious place, the first place I looked even. I barely had to tear up the attic. I hardly swore up a blue streak at all. In the end, it wasn't too much hassle. I took the whole experience as a Teaching Moment: Don't push your computer onto the floor. You might want to write that down.

Or, maybe that's obvious to you.

Anyway, the crisis has been averted, we got greens across the board, people. We're in the pipe, 5 by 5. The laptop is fixed. But you know how it goes, right? You think you've handled one problem, only to find yourself facing another...

I was working on a story when my computer took the Big Leap. A novel, maybe. A book, possibly. A story. My Work in Progress. I was in the middle of it, trucking along and then... boom... break time. It's hard to get back into things when that happens, as they sometimes do. So what do you do?

What am I doing?

Jon's Handy-Dandy Suggestions for getting back into your shit, yo

I've talked about stuff like this before...

1. Start from the beginning

Every time I sit down to do some work on whatever story I'm working on, I usually start off by re-reading/editing the last part I worked on. It's kind of like warming up the engines and taxing down the runway. Doing this helps me get back into the rhythm of the piece. It helps me to re-ground myself in the work. Where am I? What am I doing? What's the next step? I find that it's all much easier once you get the juices flowing. this is a good habit to get into, I think. It not only helps to maintain a consistent direction, but it can also alert you to the fact that you might need to adjust that direct. Story-awareness, my friends. Story awareness.

2. Work on a side project

Sometimes it helps to step away for awhile. Some people suggest doing chores or something like that, but... yeah, fuck that. Chores... pphhbbtt. Whatever. Anyway, I suggest working on other projects. You have other projects, right? Things on the back-burner, maybe some other stories in various states of readiness, yeah? During my forced break I was not only pondering my current WIP, but two others I have in limbo. The one upside to my unplanned writing hiatus was the hatching of a couple of ideas. I thought I would jot those down quick before getting back to the heavy-lifting that is the current WIP. Think of it like stretching before a workout. Of course, this can be a tricky thing. You want to be careful you don't get sucked so far into a new project that you end up abandoning your old one. You'll never get anything done that way, so stay vigilant, friends.

3. Blog

Okay, maybe the temptation of those shiny new and unblemished story ideas is too much, especially when compared to your more worn and lived-in WIP. Maybe you don't think you're strong enough. That is understandable. If this is you, then I suggest other types of writing to warm-up with. Blogging is the amuse-bouche of the creative process after all, so indulge. Talk about your Writing Process. Write some flash fiction or a book review, gush about your favorite TV show, fill out a survey, or maybe recommend some comics... sometimes several comics. Be a smart ass. Whatever. It doesn't matter. In the end, the only thing that does is that you shut up and write.

And that's the most important take-away from this bit of nonsense, kids: Shut up and write.

At least, that's what I plan on doing...

Until next time,

Jon

This Modern Word

So, I've been lax in contributing to our collective blog here at the Scribblerati watering hole. I've been lax, in fact, in contributing to any form of writing at all. This blog, my personal blog, my novel.

Well, wait. That's not strictly true. Writing is everywhere these days. People communicate in texts more than phone calls. We email, we IM, we Tweet and update our statuses. Words, words, words, in the written (okay, typed, or texted) form is everywhere. I believe that I've spent more time communicating in writing in the past 10 years than I did in all the years previous.

Is this a good thing? Many say no... the lack of face-to-face communication, morons who text and drive, and dear heavens, the anonymity of those Youtube comments - let's just say, have made society a less pleasing place. Plus, when I was a teenager, confined to "the middle of nowhere" (as I often lamented to my parents), the only way to communicate with those friends I made in Forensics (speech, not dead bodies) or summer camp was with ridiculously long hand-written missives. This was even true in college, when I moved states away from many of my closest friends. I wrote to my brother when he was in the army, my sister when she was at college, and my parents, once I left home.

My husband, an old-fashioned fellow, still writes the occasional letter. For me, it's only thank you notes. I can't recall the last time I sat down and wrote a proper letter -it probably was in the mid nineties, when my best friend was working in England. I'm saddened by this - I miss the thrill of discovering a fat envelope, laden with stamps, peeking out of my mailbox. I miss cool stationery, and the joy of writing with that perfect pen.

However, I also love email. I still remember the wonder I felt when, in 1997, I tracked down my friend Michiko, a woman from The Netherlands whom I had met in Ireland... on AOL. The idea that I could type out a letter to her, hit 'send,' and it would reach her in a matter of minutes (well, hours - this was AOL in the nineties) was mind-boggling to me. Now it's commonplace, and although some of the amazement has receded, I still appreciate the ease - and the ability I now own - to keep up with family and friends regularly, rather than in one big chunk every month or two.

And then there's Facebook. (I'm not a Twitter girl, although I haven't given it a decent try.) People hate on the Facebook, and although I understand the reasons why - I don't care about your virtual Farm or Kingdom or Zombies or Whatnot - and oh, that acquaintance from high school who is now a Tea Party Republican and has 6 kids and likes to talk about their poops - but I love it. I don't work in an office, so Facebook provides me with daily socialization, albeit virtual. I enjoy laying down a well-crafted status, and the often humorous banter that ensues... and I'm just going to say it: that counts as writing. No, it's not Dostoyevsky or even Jackie Collins, and it's no substitute for creating a story with a beginning, middle and end. But it does speak to that creative, writerly part of our brains, and that's something.

Plus, it's a little diary, not documenting major, heavy events, but tiny little moments. Here are some of my statuses from the past year. Just to prove that I have been, you know, writing.

 ***

This is how it typically goes for Tony when he's trying to talk to me about baseball.
Tony (describing a baseball card): So, Felix the Cat, Felix Millan, he was a pretty good player for the Mets in the seventies - so he's standing at the base, and there's this Pirate right there... and this Pirate slides into second...
Me: Oh my god - did he fall on his cutlass?
Tony:
...
...
...
... so anyway...

***

Don't believe that aliens have visited us and gifted us with their technology? I have one word for you: Accordions.

 ***

Ah... the Holiday Season. The time we gather 'round the yule log and remind ourselves that Amy Grant happened. 

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I'd love to start a fund for manatees, partially because they're glorious creatures and their environment is being encroached upon, but mostly because I could call my charity "Habitat for Huge Manatees."

*** 

Sometimes I find it exceedingly odd that we choose to share our homes with adorable little predators. 

*** 

So, I walked into my back yard just in time to witness the 8-year-old neighbor girl, arms straight out, carrying a live, rusty-orange chicken - and then putting it on the trampoline. FOR SCIENCE!

***

In my shopping today, I'm picking up razors for Tony: "Remember, I use the Gillette Sensor Mach 3 XL Turbo Viking Marauder Supercharged Touchdown Pickaxe Razor." 

***  

And quite possibly my favoirte exchange of all time:

There are a dozen cardinals in our backyard right now!!! (Bird kind, not Catholic kind.)

413Like ·

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  Michelle Farley Whoa, that could have been scary. All the judging, and robes, who needs that?

  
  
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  Christian Hanson Is it wrong that when I read that, the first image was of catholic cardinals. Lol

  
  
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  Jane Gehr How do you know they're not Catholic?

  
  
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  Brian Kelly their yarmulkes.

  
  
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  Claudia Hankin Balluff They've been deflocked. HAHAHAHAhahahahahahah. Ha.

  
  
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  Claudia Hankin Balluff Credit where credit is due... my raised- Catholic husband came up with the above joke.

  
  
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  Claudia Hankin Balluff Waiting for white smoke, to let us know if they've elected a bird pope.

  
  
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  Brian Kelly There's bird pope on my car windshield.

  
  
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  Joolie Pritz WAHAHAHHAHAAAA!

  
  
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  Ahna Brandvik Logan THis thread made me happy. Thank you.

  
  
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  Karen Paurus This is seriously...

  
  
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  Karen Paurus ...POPETASTIC!!!!!!!

  

  
  

  Cheers,

  Q