Month: February 2013

So What You’re Saying Is…

If you have not yet read the “About” section (link above) or the “Welcome to the Insanity” entry that opened this blog (scroll down or see link to the right) please do so now and then continue to read this entry.  If you have, please proceed.

This message will be featured on every entry I post here. Unfortunately it is necessary.

This is how my brain functions. Find an interest. Consume everything it offers. Move on to the next interest. And when I say move on I don’t mean give it up and make room for something new. I mean store it in my bank of things I geek out for and then obsess over something new. So when I gave myself permission to be a writer for reals, I started consuming everything I could about the craft – books written by writers about writing, who told me I needed to be a reader and a writer because if you do not have time to read you do not have time to write (Stephen King), which turned into consuming as many books as possible (granted I was already an avid reader) and stumbling on to Youtube videos with writers talking about writing and finally landing on a podcast series with TV writers talking about how they create good television. Two things struck me as I consumed the information in the books, videos and podcasts – these writers rely or relied heavily on drugs and alcohol to get through their writing and they were (are) big gamers.

There are many vices I take part in (Food, Social Media, Porn, Shopping, Oversharing…). But drugs and alcohol have never been the top of my list of things I either enjoy or need to function. Addiction is very real in my world, as I have just said. When I like a thing I like it all the way, and maybe that’s why I knew better than to even begin with having a drink more often than once a year or take any kind of drugs. It took several terrible years of dealing with intense migraines to finally agree to a prescription migraine medicine.

As far as gaming goes, I am a big fan of old school Atari games, Super Mario, many table top board games, and anything mindnumbingly easy to play without much skill. These people are all Dungeons & Dragons, RPG, MMO, FPS (Role Playing Games, Massively Multiplayer Online, First Person Shooter) players. I have never played any RPGs or MMOs, and to see me play an FPS game is like watching Wile E. Coyote chase the Roadrunner. Dizzying, frustrating and entertaining the first time but you’re well aware I (the Coyote) am never going to get the Roadrunner (or, whatever I am supposed to be chasing, shooting or attaining) so you give up thinking I’m ever going to win.

So what am I doing here? Crazy, I’ve got that in spades. Skill, I manage. But alcoholic gamer? Not so much.

Right Brain, Left Brain, Red Fish, Blue Fish…

If you have not yet read the “About” section (link above) or the “Welcome to the Insanity” entry that opened this blog (scroll down or see link to the right) please do so now and then continue to read this entry.  If you have, please proceed.

This message will be featured on every entry I post here. Unfortunately it is necessary.

With that title I am sure you hoped I would be speaking in Seussisms, but I’m not that clever. You’re stuck with Stacy speak. Sorry kids. So here’s the dilemma. My right brain and left brain are at war. My creative processors and my logical processors are fighting for equal time. At the moment logic is winning. Creativity surrendered, put up a white flag, left the building. As soon as I gave her permission to take over, she turned her back on me like the child she is. 

In all my time as a faux writer, I never had to struggle to start anything. No switch had to be turned on, no alarm had to go off to wake up the sleeping creative child. She was just awake in there waiting to be unleashed. Now that I have decided that she’s the new boss, she’s quit working. Brat.

I am too responsible. I think too much. I weigh every decision and lay out all the consequences. And I keep forgetting to let myself be the important one. I’m always so worried about how my actions affect others I forget to think about how they affect me. I forgot to be a kid when I was one, and now that I have given myself permission to find my inner child, she’s gone to play in some other playground.

Please come back. I promise to let you play with all the toys.