Post by david on May 6, 2009 12:02:38 GMT -8
All my troubles, Lord...
Ron's writing rules and regulations are clear: weekly prompts are merely suggestions; we're free to modify or even ignore the putative assignment and write about anything we wish … anything.
But, with more than 100 notches on my keyboard, I'm pretty confident that I can translate each of our ingenious instructor's prompts into a workable prose-plan that will allow me to punch out a few hundred words post haste.
In fact, prompt or no prompt, I'm rarely at a loss for words – either as a writer or as a talker. My tendency is to write more than most folks would care to read and to say more than they'd prefer to hear, but that's another story.
So, I don't worry about thinking of something to write. In fact, I'm not a big worrier in general, I view myself the same way our former president saw himself: I'm a decider. I don't sit on the fence; I follow through on a lot of the crazy ideas that come into my admittedly somewhat warped mind.
Most folks favor procrastination and often end up sitting on their hands. The old “would-a, could-a should-a” syndrome is probably as common as the common cold. Only one in a hundred people has the guts, when opportunity knocks, to grab for the gusto. They're the early birds who get the worm, the first-comers who get served first.
Yes, I count myself among those few fearless folks. Hopefully, we're not fools for rushing in where wise men fear to tread; we're quick to step forward when invited and we're always striking while the proverbial iron is hot.
Of course, there's an opposite view and clichés are also plentiful on that side of the debate between looking and leaping. The “measure twice, cut once” crowd has a pretty good record for accuracy and getting a job done right. They don't look foolish quite so often; but I believe their lives also lack a bit of the je ne sais quoi that keeps the adrenaline flowing among us risk-takers.
So, getting back to the prompt at hand, how does a guy like me – one who has spent a lifetime on the edge – identify a single edgy event that epitomizes a fervent, unrelenting state of worryment? How does one who tends not to worry very much unearth an example of a time when worries dominated his life?
Well, this is the place in my writing process, where inspiration is supposed to strike and I am able to (finally) get to the point.
But unearthing a worrisome incident is proving elusive. I've managed – as usual – to beat around the bush for a page or so and that usually results in some sort of epiphany – admittedly often a rather lame epiphany, but as they say, any epiphany in a storm...
Hmmm. Still nothing. Perhaps another quote from a favorite writer will help. Let's see, how about Meredith Wilson?
In “The Music Man,” Professor Harold Hill corners Marian the librarian and challenges her to make one of those life-changing decisions. Marian has always been a worrier, a woman who usually ends up staying in one place – she seems destined to spinsterhood.
But the professor manages to get her attention by singing and dancing all through the library. And later, on the bridge where lovers often meet, he reminds her that putting things off can lead to disappointment:
“Oh my dear librarian,” he begins, “If you keep saving up all your tomorrows you will find you have collected nothing but a bunch of empty yesterdays.”
Then, putting the situation in context, the Music Man attempts to close the deal with a pitch that only a traveling salesman could craft: “I don't know about you,” he declares, gazing deep into her eyes, “But I'd like to make TODAY worth remembering.”
Well, if Professor Hill is right, maybe the best approach for me is not to search the past for a worrisome event but rather to examine my life today and see whether I'm making it worth remembering...
As a retired person, I don't have a lot of responsibilities or duties. My main obligations for the current week are all – er, I should say BOTH related to this class.
I promised Ron that I'd prepare a prompt for next week when he'll be back east and I'll be filling in as instructor-slash-prompt-writer.
And I accepted, as (with the possible exception of June) did we all, last week's mission impossible: the topic of this writing – the challenge to create a story based on Ron's very worrisome prompt.
After a false start or two, I came up with a suitably diabolical prompt and made copies at Staples yesterday afternoon.
Mission accomplished. That left a single worry for the rest of the week: as of 9 last night, my only unfulfilled commitment was the writing of a story that fit at least loosely into the category of “worrisome events.”
And that brings us up to date and returns me to the topic at hand.
About 50 years ago, Alfred E. Newman of Mad Magazine famously asked: “What? Me Worry?”
Some 25 or 30 years later Bobby McFarren improved on that theme by commanding, “Don't worry. Be happy.”
Well, I'm not worried ... I'm happy.
And I'm done.
It takes a worried man to sing a worried song,
It takes a worried man to sing a worried song,
It takes a worried man to sing a worried song,
I'm worried now, but I won't be worried long.
It takes a worried man to sing a worried song,
It takes a worried man to sing a worried song,
I'm worried now, but I won't be worried long.
– Kingston Trio, 1959
Ron's writing rules and regulations are clear: weekly prompts are merely suggestions; we're free to modify or even ignore the putative assignment and write about anything we wish … anything.
But, with more than 100 notches on my keyboard, I'm pretty confident that I can translate each of our ingenious instructor's prompts into a workable prose-plan that will allow me to punch out a few hundred words post haste.
In fact, prompt or no prompt, I'm rarely at a loss for words – either as a writer or as a talker. My tendency is to write more than most folks would care to read and to say more than they'd prefer to hear, but that's another story.
So, I don't worry about thinking of something to write. In fact, I'm not a big worrier in general, I view myself the same way our former president saw himself: I'm a decider. I don't sit on the fence; I follow through on a lot of the crazy ideas that come into my admittedly somewhat warped mind.
Most folks favor procrastination and often end up sitting on their hands. The old “would-a, could-a should-a” syndrome is probably as common as the common cold. Only one in a hundred people has the guts, when opportunity knocks, to grab for the gusto. They're the early birds who get the worm, the first-comers who get served first.
Yes, I count myself among those few fearless folks. Hopefully, we're not fools for rushing in where wise men fear to tread; we're quick to step forward when invited and we're always striking while the proverbial iron is hot.
Of course, there's an opposite view and clichés are also plentiful on that side of the debate between looking and leaping. The “measure twice, cut once” crowd has a pretty good record for accuracy and getting a job done right. They don't look foolish quite so often; but I believe their lives also lack a bit of the je ne sais quoi that keeps the adrenaline flowing among us risk-takers.
So, getting back to the prompt at hand, how does a guy like me – one who has spent a lifetime on the edge – identify a single edgy event that epitomizes a fervent, unrelenting state of worryment? How does one who tends not to worry very much unearth an example of a time when worries dominated his life?
Well, this is the place in my writing process, where inspiration is supposed to strike and I am able to (finally) get to the point.
But unearthing a worrisome incident is proving elusive. I've managed – as usual – to beat around the bush for a page or so and that usually results in some sort of epiphany – admittedly often a rather lame epiphany, but as they say, any epiphany in a storm...
Hmmm. Still nothing. Perhaps another quote from a favorite writer will help. Let's see, how about Meredith Wilson?
In “The Music Man,” Professor Harold Hill corners Marian the librarian and challenges her to make one of those life-changing decisions. Marian has always been a worrier, a woman who usually ends up staying in one place – she seems destined to spinsterhood.
But the professor manages to get her attention by singing and dancing all through the library. And later, on the bridge where lovers often meet, he reminds her that putting things off can lead to disappointment:
“Oh my dear librarian,” he begins, “If you keep saving up all your tomorrows you will find you have collected nothing but a bunch of empty yesterdays.”
Then, putting the situation in context, the Music Man attempts to close the deal with a pitch that only a traveling salesman could craft: “I don't know about you,” he declares, gazing deep into her eyes, “But I'd like to make TODAY worth remembering.”
Well, if Professor Hill is right, maybe the best approach for me is not to search the past for a worrisome event but rather to examine my life today and see whether I'm making it worth remembering...
As a retired person, I don't have a lot of responsibilities or duties. My main obligations for the current week are all – er, I should say BOTH related to this class.
I promised Ron that I'd prepare a prompt for next week when he'll be back east and I'll be filling in as instructor-slash-prompt-writer.
And I accepted, as (with the possible exception of June) did we all, last week's mission impossible: the topic of this writing – the challenge to create a story based on Ron's very worrisome prompt.
After a false start or two, I came up with a suitably diabolical prompt and made copies at Staples yesterday afternoon.
Mission accomplished. That left a single worry for the rest of the week: as of 9 last night, my only unfulfilled commitment was the writing of a story that fit at least loosely into the category of “worrisome events.”
And that brings us up to date and returns me to the topic at hand.
About 50 years ago, Alfred E. Newman of Mad Magazine famously asked: “What? Me Worry?”
Some 25 or 30 years later Bobby McFarren improved on that theme by commanding, “Don't worry. Be happy.”
Well, I'm not worried ... I'm happy.
And I'm done.