Seems so obvious but I see how not remembering that caused some real blockage in my creative output over the years. Get so damn caught up in angles and analysis and voice—nothing happens. My big overeducated head a dang boulder on the path.
So it makes sense that I’d start throwing in some thoughts on the craft of writing among these twisted true life tidbits. The ambulance work feeds me, literally and literarily, because what better fodder for a writer than night after night of humanity’s tiny disasters? Even the boring shit’s a nice little packaged short story (repeating again and again…) and rather than falling in 2 the cliched role of passive observer that we writers are prone to, the medic is unavoidably, irrefutably and literally arm deep in the shit.
So these notes on writing won’t b as gory or ridiculous as the ambulance ones but they will b curse-laden and spiritually engaging. Yes, spiritually. And they’ll be clearly marked so u gorehounds can disregard @ will…
So Today’s Topic: Just Tell the eFfin’ Story. Much as I believe in the other timeless wrtier’s rule: Ass In Chair, I’ve logged many a-blank stared hour in this chair and wound up with blank pages. Or the inverse: pushed hard and cranked out pages and pages of utter uselessness. I believe in freewrites something fierce- it’s the best way 2 dislodge that thought-fraught brain and clear writer’s block. But for me, thrusting forward towards a word or page goal isn’t the way 2 go. (For other writers, wordcounts are the beesknees: http://thewordsofawriter.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-love-goals-for-writing.html )