I quite enjoy analogies. My brain often thinks of analogies. When I hear or read really good ones, I like to share them. My extremely long stretch of not being able to write has continued. Sure, I started adding words to two stories. One was a short story, a dystopian theme, which of course does not sell as well as traditional romance. Another is an idea from a few Facebook posts. I like the idea. I just don’t like the less than 1,000 words I’ve written. Thus, I’ve labeled them shit.
That’s where something that K’Anne Meinel posted got me thinking about analogies. Her brilliant post was this, “So, you say you wrote shit. At least you wrote something. Shit can be cleaned up.” She’s right, of course. This is how I normally write. I pound out one to two thousand words a day when I am writing and don’t overthink anything. I am a pantster, after all. I simply get the story on the page and then clean it up later. But wait….there’s more to this little aha moment. Let me tell you a little story.
Yesterday when I was lacing up my hiking shoes (the ones I wear back and forth to work because I walk to work), I smelled something really rank. I started the old sniff test and was a little appalled thinking I was back down the “I smell like old woman” path. But, this was not old woman smell. I started to panic. Could I be old enough to not know I have leakage?
And then I saw it…the little brown spot on my hand that I must have picked up from the laces that somehow landed under the shoe, and on the dog shit I’d apparently stepped in without knowing it. Yuk. I proceeded to wash my hands, a bit crazily, like a person with OCD (which I have). Then I went outside and stomped in every tiny snowdrift left over from the snow storm we had last week. No matter how many times I rubbed my shoe in the snow and puddles, there was more left over. I was left with a dilemma. Do I bring the shoes inside my apartment and wash them off in the tub and then throw them in the washing machine? Do I toss a perfectly good pair of hiking shoes into the trash because I fear I will never remove the dog shit? Should I watch where I am going to avoid shit altogether?
So what’s the point of the above story? Think about the questions asked above and let’s take the analogy a bit further. Maybe like with the dog shit above, I might need to reconsider how I write. Maybe I need to toss out what I have and start with something new. Or, maybe I need to pay a bit more attention to the words I write, lest I am unable to remove all the shit and the stories are left with a stink I can never get rid of. Makes ya think, huh? Regardless, I think I am ready to sniff out the rancid odor in my writing because the smell is kinda getting to me! I know. You don’t need to tell me I am an odd one!
One final thing…while I was looking for pictures to add to this blog, I came across this fun fact (see picture below). You’re welcome!
People have told me my stuff does not stink. I hope they are correct and I’ve managed to clean the shit up as K’Anne has suggested. Perhaps you should judge for yourself and take a peek inside my books and let me know!
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The subject of this blog reminded me of the fatberg on display at the Museum of London last year. You could actually watch shit grow. The museum’s curators were thrilled with increase in visitor numbers as this turned out to be their most popular display. https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/education-44615693
All this congealing under our feet – and you’re worried about a bit of dog shit on your shoe! (I know, it does stink – I hate it when that happens.)
Your writing doesn’t stink and I’m sure the words will flow more freely soon. I’ve been going through something similar. It’s been a bit of struggle the last few months to even hit 500 words a day – and if I do manage that, it’s a cause for celebration.
Keep going – it will get better. 🙂
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Weird how people are oddly fascinated with shit!
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