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Obviously I need to do more writing. I can tell when I'm not writing enough…or enough of the RIGHT stuff. My brain just gets so filled with words and thoughts and then I finally get a few minutes to put metaphorical pen to paper and it's the literary equivalent of a greyhound going batshit* when you get home: highspeed joy that makes you feel like you have seventeen dogs freaking out that you finally got home and rescued them after two HOURS of complete, total, UTTER abandonment. And suddenly there is a dog part everywhere you turn and you're getting stomped on by practically prehensile toes tipped with raking claws, being poked at by an impossibly intrusive pointed snout, bodychecked by a veritable Metrotrain of oddly articulated dog midsection and brutally whipped by a tail that would be prized by dominatrixes the world over. And then the 60 seconds is over and the greyhound goes and lays down, completely ignoring you until you touch leash or dogfood bowl.
THAT'S how I’ve been writing. Here are some quotes from WORK e-mails this past week:
“Ha, still haven't found my mind, but I've put up posters on telephone poles, so I have high hopes of retrieving it, as I lied and said it needed daily medication. That tends to work with dogs, so we'll see.”
“If you could coat this with a glaze of urgency, I'd appreciate it.”
“I know you have a lot of forest fires to put out, and this is just a small problem, but consider it a hole in one of your fire hoses. Eventually, conflagration.”
“Here's the deal: I am not going to change the way we do business because it annoys your accounts receivable department. You're just going to have to suck it up.”
“Make this go away and I will totally owe you my firstborn. On second thought, my ovaries are like raisins that rolled under the couch six months ago. How about I buy you a beer instead?”
I've used these words/phrases: Palpitations. Rat's Patoot. Please sit up and focus. Time to pull on your big girl panties. Completely unglued. Havoc that makes Ragnarok look like a childs' birthday party.
It's bad enough when this stuff is in my head. Less professional when my internal editor stays home sick and I say it out loud. But when I start committing it to my work record? Eek.
So – what follows is probably in need of some severe editing, but right now the brainpurge is needed far more then knowing I've gifted some finely crafted piece of writing to the world. ( Sometimes you just have to go with the fart joke. )
THAT'S how I’ve been writing. Here are some quotes from WORK e-mails this past week:
“Ha, still haven't found my mind, but I've put up posters on telephone poles, so I have high hopes of retrieving it, as I lied and said it needed daily medication. That tends to work with dogs, so we'll see.”
“If you could coat this with a glaze of urgency, I'd appreciate it.”
“I know you have a lot of forest fires to put out, and this is just a small problem, but consider it a hole in one of your fire hoses. Eventually, conflagration.”
“Here's the deal: I am not going to change the way we do business because it annoys your accounts receivable department. You're just going to have to suck it up.”
“Make this go away and I will totally owe you my firstborn. On second thought, my ovaries are like raisins that rolled under the couch six months ago. How about I buy you a beer instead?”
I've used these words/phrases: Palpitations. Rat's Patoot. Please sit up and focus. Time to pull on your big girl panties. Completely unglued. Havoc that makes Ragnarok look like a childs' birthday party.
It's bad enough when this stuff is in my head. Less professional when my internal editor stays home sick and I say it out loud. But when I start committing it to my work record? Eek.
So – what follows is probably in need of some severe editing, but right now the brainpurge is needed far more then knowing I've gifted some finely crafted piece of writing to the world. ( Sometimes you just have to go with the fart joke. )
