Saturday, October 21, 2006
I Starved My Pet Creativity
It has been a very long while since I have felt the need, desire, presumption, or creativity to truly write well. Blogging has become a chore--at least, writing for the blog has become a chore. I feel guilty when I read Stuntmother's and Monkey's page, because I cannot be so clever or tidy with my words.

Which has convinced me that it is time to up the ante. Throw out a stress test. Jump through a gazillion hoops of fire and small splinters. Stuntmother introduced me to the madness that is NaNoWriMo. It's as nutty as it sounds. The idea behind this insane collabrative is to write 50,000 words in November. If I'm lucky, I'll have a real novella by the end of it. If not, I'll have a ridiculous amount of blogging accomplished. Though I have to get clear on the details. I may be able to not share this others, but then.

It might actually do you all some good.

So, please. Go talk to Stuntmother about how insane this idea is, and yell at her for convincing me that this can actually happen. If you think that's inappropriate, then at least go read HER blog, which is insightful, well-written, and basically, everything that my blog is NOT. I simply can't wait to see what my novella comes out like. (A mockery of the art of literature, I'm sure).

But if you need further convincing that I can write, Spinning Girl would suggest you read my Symphony for Life.

Hell, when I read that, I almost think I might have a shot at this ridiculous thing called writing.
But I'm not hopeful, mind you, that I can accomplish what roughly turns out to be 1600 words a day for one full month. Not hopeful at all. I'm the Eeyore of this whole enterprise.

Join my ranks, and be duly disappointed. Go sign up. It'll do you good, and humble you. You need to be humbled. I'm positive of it.
Written by FRITZ
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Name: Fritz

Location: Detroit Rock City!
Where the weak are killed and eaten

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    What I Live By:
    We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. Through the unknown, unremembered gate When the last of earth left to discover Is that which was the beginning; At the source of the longest river The voice of the hidden waterfall And the children in the apple-tree Not known, because not looked for But heard, half-heard, in the stillness Between two waves of the sea. Quick now, here, now, always— A condition of complete simplicity (Costing not less than everything) And all shall be well and All manner of thing shall be well When the tongues of flame are in-folded Into the crowned knot of fire And the fire and the rose are one. -T.S. Eliot "Little Gidding"

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