Two weeks since my last post, and, frankly, I’m surprised. Did I dive under the covers in a final rebellion against winter gloominess? Almost.
The other day I realized that I wasn’t thinking about much of anything. My blogging brain went on hiatus. Earning-money brain took over for awhile. I’m sure it’s the adjustment. Up until now, I’ve been on the writing grant: all creativity, all the time, with plenty of cerebral space for blogging brain and fiction brain.
I hope earning-money brain pipes down so that blogging brain will regain space. The only reason I’m blogging today is because I scheduled it in. Scheduled it in. Oy. And I had to leave the house to get it done. (Not that I mind sitting in cafes.)
In truth, this not-thinking-about-much-of-anything business feels good, as if I’ve been vacationing far, far away from my bad-ass, overthinking self. I’m relaxed, rejuvenated, ready for the thoughts to start again.
And, guess what? I’ve only got two chapters left for this round of revisions! Something to say for myself, after all. I had that epiphany last month, which has led to further revelations. So, another round coming up. It’s all good.
Just now, the women in the photo said, “I’ve always wondered who reads blogs.” She said this like, What’s the point? I used to wonder the same thing. All I can say in this moment, sipping a nonfat latte, listening to The Black Keys (a bluesy duo; good stuff) background music, sitting in a wing-back chair, that I’m enjoying myself.
Congratulate me on my first draft: I officially reached 400 pages while loitering here at Twin Paradox. Actually, I’m stuck. Not for words, luckily, but for a ride because my trusty red steed is undergoing a major tune-up.
Twin Paradox gets me thinking about paradoxes in general. For example: I accomplish my best writing in the morning, yet I’m not a morning person. What’s that all about?
The fact that I can conceptualize an abstract idea like “paradox” leads me to ponder our oversized homo sapien brains. I know mine’s a strange and fascinating organ-slash-tool-slash-inner-space. On the days I roll over for more sleep, I’m not using it well — choosing the easy path. I’ve gotta face reality: Using my brain is hard work; most of the time I’d prefer to coast on previously wired synaptic pathways rather than choose the healthier, self-improving, harder paths (like getting out of bed).
From that thought, my brain (or is it “my mind”?) just skipped over to a wonderful book called An Alchemy of Mind, The Marvel and Mystery of the Brain by Diane Ackerman. I recommend her for anyone inclined toward naturalism, creative nonfiction, new twists on fascinating topics, and lush language.
I think this post will circle back around, so bear with me. (On the other hand, I have time on my hands so “blather” might be the theme of the day.) Last night I read the following in Ackerman’s book, from a section entitled “Shakespeare on the Brain”:
Another angle on Shakespeare’s brain is that he wasn’t good at inventing plots. He elaborated them cleverly once he had them, but for the most part he borrowed plots from historical sources. As I understand, sadly, plotting requires a special cast of mind. Give me a ready-made plot and I’ll have fun elaborating it. Ask me to make phrases until the cows come home, and I’m happy. Invite me to describe a gesture or set a scene or develope an idea or explore someone’s psycho —
Oops, my mechanic called much earlier than expected! I’ll have to — NO! I CHOOSE to — leave you on a cliffhanger. Stay tuned Monday; we’ll see if this ramble was indeed leading somewhere.