An Exercise for Exploring Writing Ideas
Just beginning this article I ponder that very question. There is a hub titled Why Write an Internet Article at an Internet Writing Site?
by this very author. I like it and others have read it too. It is today ranked my second best. Even though that article articulates why to write an internet article it simply does not explain or offer any iota as to ‘Why am I writing’?
This article began as a writing exercise. Simply I open a Microsoft Excel workbook or a Word document and I begin creating a list. That list is my thoughts expressed with no more than five words each. I write until I am completely exhausted and have to walk away from the exercise. I remove all fears and at the same time experience all fears. Sometimes the list is long before that occurs. Of importance is the removal of the fear of spelling correctly, language usage, and that ghost or spirit hovering over your shoulder. The entity of being wrong.
Time Does Not Belong to You
That exercise may take ten minutes or less if a point of frustration due to a mood or such and such is reached. No matter since that entity is not a looming overlord. That entity is a friend elsewhere doing something else. Or, as today it may be an hour or more. Like a welling spring one seems to just babble and babble.
Simply care is no consequence while focus is emptying the container like the last drop of milk for cereal. As in the movie with Kevin Costner For Love of the Game the main character Billy Chapel softly saying "Clear the mechanism" you empty your mind. Emptying it not seeking to throw that pitch to the eagerly awaiting batter. Not to the catcher anticipating. Not for the team seeking victory. Or, the onlooking crowd desiring to see, to feel, to experience. But to fate!
Simplicity is the key. The keys are ferociously pounded like an avenging army assailing an intruding predator. They are melodically danced upon delicately like a ballerina dressed in purple full of happiness and joy. They float listlessly like the uniqueness of a singular snowflake arriving on your nose.
Maybe each bleeds misfortune as opaque burgundy melding with the earth barren of spring’s flowers. Of importance is each is each and they are yours known by no other. They are wondrous gifts, cherished blessings, cursed obscenities, tumultuous atrocities, and they too are mediocrities dare to change.
Begin this exercise with ‘supercalifragilisticexpialidocious is fun’ as the first entry. That seems to be about a good length. The next entry may be that sucks, who says so, or sure. Maybe it might be a ‘spoonful of sugar’. It could be a dance with verbs mincing with adverbs. Adjectives tempting an explicative. Or, a greeting saying ‘Hello’ to your own self. Try to keep each thought to that length . . . supercalifragilisticexpialidocious is fun.
Easily thoughts could grow becoming compound sentences, but don’t let them. Chunk them. Think of Chuck E. Cheese’s or something like that. Take caution, beware, and watch out for Mr. / Ms. Editing. Not invited. This is free time and liberty is the rule. Let your very own unique thoughts run on and on and on. Just play. As an exercise keeping thoughts to that recommended length thoughts become succinct, concise, and importantly manageable. Shhhhh . . . a secret is to NOT be an exercise . . . Shhhhh . . . just write!
Supercalifragilisticiexpialidocious is fun
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious is fun
why am I doing this
what is going on
how did I get here
where am I going
the sun is shining
I love this song
the violins are cool
the guitar is awesome
need a story
need to write something
why am I writing
who is listening
am I listening
Am I saying anything
need to vacuum
better do the laundry
who is calling now
next is what
what follows next
why is where when what occurs
Horton hears a Who
Now all those chunks of thoughts begin to blur and meld together becoming as a mountain stream emptying into the ocean blue. Subtleness drifts slowly upon your very soul as you experience those gentle rolling waves sliding onto the sun entranced sands of the shore. The coolness of each wave brings new life to your very toes.
It pulses through your veins filling full along with the soft cadence of your heart. You are done. Nothing left. Fingers of wet noodles caress an unknown key or two, palms fall heavily downward upon the rest of the keyboard, arms grow limp, while nostrils flare widely with a breathe, and then a long, hushed sigh escapes beyond.
Scrolling upward along your list and such a steep climb it is too you realize you wrote a lot. But, it is just too much to read. What a headache could be one feeling or my, my, my what have I done might be another. Take caution as that spirit may emerge again egging you forward to read.
Walk away, make a glass of iced tea, wash the dishes, or step outside and smell the fresh air. Even if you live in a city, the air most certainly will be welcome being something new. Simply because there is difference and you made that difference. Who knows? Maybe your wings as the butterfly have caused something new somewhere else to simply become. Amazing!
One Day, Two, or More
You Have to Ask Your Self
Do I read what I wrote?
Do I open what has been sealed?
A Story Someone Else Once Told
Pandora’s Box is a Greek lore, legend, and myth telling of a mix up between those ancient gods. The short of that story is there was this dude named Prometheus. Prometheus had the gift of foresight and acted as a caretaker of us . . . common folk. He was a little at odds with the King of the Hill named Zeus. The crux of it is Zeus did not want us to have fire of all things. Go figure. Prometheus said ‘Bah Humbug’ and gave fire to us. Zeus had a fit about it.
Prometheus had a brother named Epimetheus. He didn’t have foresight having only afterthought. Yes, a backseat driver. We all know about that. Prometheus warned his brother about receiving gifts from Zeus because of his adventure giving fire to us.
Well, Zeus gave Epimetheus a bride – Pandora. Some say she was a humdinger of a gal. Zeus gave the couple what seemed to be a gift we know today as Pandora’s Box. It came with a warning never to open it. Some say a box while others say a Jar. Time passed by and Pandora having the gift of curiosity wished to open that jar. Why not? After all it was a gift . . . wasn’t it?
Since she was consumed with curiosity she ventured a peek. Like The Raiders of the Lost Ark when the Nazi villains opened the ark all of evil was released into the world. Like a bolt of lightning crashing through the heavens the skies became swiftly full of ghastly ghouls, haunting spirits, and wavering doubts. We were now cursed.
Now we would have to work. Kinda’ like the story of eating the apple with Adam and Eve. In the end of both stories we get kicked out of the fruitful orchard and into the barren land where tilling the hardened earth would be the task of the day. Alas, there was a spirit that had not ventured out of Pandora’s Jar. Lay at the bottom was the spirit Hope. Then wondrously it made its way passed the mouth of the jar into the world. There was now Hope for all. Legend says eternal.
Why am I writing?
Okay if you have read this far then you are asking yourself surely “Why am I reading this?” One answer of arrogance is because I wrote it. Another may be a yearning to learn of another. Seeking the fulfillment of wisdom arrived through a compare and contrast with your own thoughts possibly. Both deductive and inductive reasoning occurs.
Deductive is the general reason seeking the specific. For instance why others write is because . . . therefore, that is ‘Why I am writing’. Inductive reasoning is kinda’ the opposite. A specific seeks a generalization. Or, ‘Why I am writing’ is why others write. Then it gets complicated because now there are others. The question ‘Why am I writing’ jumps from I to others and from others back to I. Sounds like a feedback loop doesn’t it. Yet, does that answer “Why am I writing?”
It all began with an exercise seeking fun through exploring thoughts . . . your very own thoughts. The intent simply was to empty out your thoughts, clear your head, and make room for something new. It touched on a multitude of emotions one at a time or quite possibly all at once. You made a simple list of your thoughts and one thought phrase no longer than ‘supercalifragilisticexpialidocious is fun’. You did it. You wrote. You wrote your heart out. If it was only the entry prompt or a list a mile long does not matter.
Why am I writing?
Once upon a time long, long ago there was an old man sitting in a garden. And, . .
Thank you for your interest and time reading a tsmog article. There are a few recommendations of other authors for your consideration as well as two more by this author. Enjoy! Remember to smile and have fun, fun, fun . . . as best as can be :-)
© 2015 Tim Mitchell