Monthly Archives: July 2014

Breaking Chains, or A Writing Post That Will Only Probably (MAYBE) Appeal to (Some) Writers

Last year, I don’t remember when exactly, a piece about Jerry Seinfeld popped up on my Facebook wall that actually made me click the link. I don’t hate Seinfeld, I actually think he’s a goddamn funny guy, and I love his show Comedians In Cars Getting Coffee (which reminds me, there’s a new season I have to watch!), but I’m not likely to reminisce about his sitcom (I haven’t watched that many episodes) and generally not likely to click a link about him. But two things piqued my interest about this particular link: 1) I’d heard Seinfeld on Howard Stern in a great interview, and 2) it was about writing. Because of the Stern interview, I knew that Seinfeld still wrote every day. The guy’s worth gazillions of dollars but he is dedicated to his craft as a comedian and does the work. So, I clicked the link.

In the article (which I’m not linking to because I’ve forgotten which place I read it on, but if you search Seinfeld break the chain you should find one of several articles about it), it says that Seinfeld told a man once, way back, that he writes every day. When he was asked how he keeps motivated, he told the man that he had a giant calendar on the wall above his desk (or something) that has every day of the year on it. He then crosses out a day after he’s done his writing. Sooner or later the Xs form a chain. The goal: Don’t break the chain.

Always looking for motivation (because, you know, spending time in my own fantasy world the way I did when I was a kid playing with my action figures isn’t enough motivation) this stuck with me. I even looked up some calendars online. Still, I didn’t take action. Around the end of the year, I remembered the idea and decided I’d begin on January 1st.

So, on January 1st, I began forming my chain. I wish I could say that I haven’t broken my chain. Unfortunately, if you go back to the 1st of the year with my chain, I’m afraid it wouldn’t hold a damn thing. That said, I’ve still been using it. And it looms over me. When I haven’t put an X on a day, I feel bad. Doubly bad, really. Not only have I broken the chain, but I’ve deprived myself of the joy that writing, that creating characters and getting lost in my own imagination, provides me.

Photo Jul 15, 11 39 19 AM

Like I said, I haven’t exactly built a great chain. More like a bunch of small chains, and even a few random links. However, I’m particularly proud of the chain I’ve been working on since June 24th, when I counted a blog post I wrote that day to be my writing. Technically, by my own rules, when I’m done with this post, I can add a new link to the calendar even though I fully intend (need) to get back to the novel tonight. And because I’m obsessive, I even write in the margins how many days I write and how many days I don’t. January and June have been my best months. March, my worst.

I don’t know if it’s working 100%, but I like it. It gives me a sense of accomplishment and I’ve gotten back the feelings that seduced me into writing way back when I was 13 years old. The feeling of creation, of problem solving, of putting something down that wouldn’t exist without me. Life has hurt that, I guess. But this calendar has helped get it back, and that’s something I’m quite happy about.

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While I’m talking about writing, I want to mention WritingChallenge.org and the very cool Kristy Acevedo. Kristy is a fellow teacher in the school I work (which, oddly enough, we’ve only met once or twice and have maybe said one or two things to each other in the real world. With my social awkwardness, that’s not much of a surprise, really) but she’s also a writer. We began following each other on Twitter because of a former student we had in common and have spoken there a bit.

Right after summer vacation started, she decided to issue a challenge to the writers following her that, for the month of July, she would try to write at least 500 words a day and then post the results on Twitter. Others began doing it and it’s become a thing of it’s own. Like Frankenstein’s Creature, it’s off to terrorize the countryside. So if you’re a writer and aren’t aware of it, check it out. I’m not a regular because with my current work being revisions (and as followers of this blog know, these revisions have been going on forever) I don’t have many word count days in the way I would writing a 1st draft, but I chime in every now and then. Like a support group whose goal is to encourage its members. You might even–egads!–make friends.

 

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Death, or A Weird Few Months

In the last two or three months, three people I’ve known have died, and I found out about a death of someone else I knew from back in 2012. It’s odd.

The first death that blipped on my radar screen was a guy I went to elementary and junior high schools with. We weren’t close friends, but we were in many of the same classes and we’d talked and hung out with the same people (when I was invited to hang out with anyone). Another former classmate had been tagged in an elementary school class picture, one of the years I wasn’t in their class, and a discussion with a lot of people I hadn’t seen in a loooonnng time started. Being nosy, I read through the discussion to find out that this guy died in 2012. Not just died, but committed suicide. I still remember him, small, blonde hair, blue eyes, and always kidding around and laughing. Now he’s gone. Weird.

Then a former co-worker from my school died. He retired last year and had been sick on-and-off in his last year or so at work. I’d known him since I was 14, when I was a student at the school. Nice guy. Not unexpected since he was an older guy, but sad.

Two weeks passed and another former co-worker, one who worked at a bookstore with me, died of cancer. He’d been fighting the good fight for a while now, but it was still very sad, considering he was in his early-50s.

And last week, a woman I’ve known since high school died unexpectedly. She was a friend-of-a-friend in high school, and a family member to my ex-wife afterward. I last saw her about two years ago when my daughter still bowled. She was a year younger than me.

And I already wrote about my dying uncle.

I know at a certain age, death becomes more prevalent, but isn’t 36 (almost 37) too young? I don’t know. But it’s got me a little freaked out. And I’m ready for this trend to end now.

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