Blots in my copybook

I think I might be a bit of a perfectionist.

Not in everything- though we all have discomfort zones- but I zero in on certain areas of life, like cooking and crafting, and in formal writing (because I really won't go to bail for the contents of my emails!). I self-edit a lot. I obsess over the perfect balance of flavours. I am rarely satisfied with a dish, a scrapbook, or a poem because I generally feel I could have done just a bit better.

No doubt this is a hindrance in some ways to my writing. In my time as a technical writer, I had to learn when to let go of a report, especially since final approval and final edits came from colleagues and thus were outside the scope of my proper work. It's usually harder when the piece is personal, creative, original, or poetic.

How does one combat specific perfectionism? Should I try to care more about the areas I'm not obsessive about, or should I try to be more relaxed and open to sharing items that I consider less than perfect?

Spinning stories

I'm really feeling perplexed about where to start over with my writing, as I've said before, and I think one of the frustrating things is that in real life, I'm not a bad storyteller, though I say it myself. I love telling stories of any kind, especially the weird/ odd/ dumb stuff that happens to me or that I do to myself- there's an endless source of punchlines- or about family moments.

I guess you could say I really love observational humour. I like it in standup comedy, I like reading it in novels, I like it when others share it- especially when catching up with friends far away who have stockpiled stories to tell since the last phone call. I try to jot down the outlines to jog my memory when my friend Pin, who is insatiable, says, "Tell me STORIES!". At first I can't think of any, but if I have written them down or when my husband says something to remind me, they come pouring out. My life is pretty low-key, especially the last 4 months of being home with the baby, and yet I often experience wonderfully goofy moments that affirm my belief that God has a sense of humour. We are made in His image, and so we were made with funny bones, and the ability to notice things to enjoy!

So I think I need to find a way to either use observation to fill my narrative more between the humourous moments, or expand those moments and their significance. I also need to work on plot, period. My mother used to say when I shared pieces of stories that never seemed to progress, "Where is this going?"

I'll share a couple of quick examples before I end this post- they're not recent but they give you an idea of the kind of thing that cracks me up, especially when I'm the one that says something loopy.


Me: "Are you sure you want to go to the drive-in theatre tonight? It might rain."

Mr. Monday (MM): "........we'll be watching from our car."
*****
 MM, at a winery tasting: "Well, I haven't finished testing your wine, but I tell ya, I love these chips!"
*****
At a hotel, I realize I left my tweezers at home, so in a rash moment of frustration with a very visible stray hair under my brow, I decide to try improvisation.
Five minutes later, MM is electrified to hear the bathroom door open and my announcement, ""You might think this sounds strange, but I cut my eyebrow while shaving with your razor!"

I have many more but they will have to wait- MM and I have a Super Mario Bros. date while the baby is sleeping!

Missing pieces

So, I've been thinking about this voicelessness of mine, and it occurs to me that there are a few specific factors that are contributing to this flailing-in-the-water feeling that I have when I try to commence creative writing these days.

First, I can tell that I lack depth. My comments, posts, and even my thoughts are much more skimming and shallow than they were a year or two ago, I believe. I confess I am not sure how to go about regaining depth. Maybe I should slow down when writing, even when I'm only commenting on Facebook or posting on someone's blog. Maybe I need to pick two or three places online and focus on making actual contributions to them. (Maybe I need to be offline more.)

Oh yeah, I also lack focus. I can't even blame it on becoming a mother. I have such a variety of interests and curiosities that I flit from topic to idea like a butterfly on crack. (And now I am wondering if anyone has introduced butterflies to crack.) Related to this, the things I most enjoy in life (e.g. cooking, reading, makeup, crafting, hiking, singing, etc) are things that I am good at, but I don't excel in them. I'm not sure I excel in anything, to be honest, and that bothers me, because I like to have goals. (I mean, I do have goals, like "Work on organizational skills", "Be kind", and "Pick up rosemary and couscous at the store." But those are hard to measure.)

I think discipline is the third main ingredient that's absent. (Please note that these are not excuses. I am trying to figure out what is broken so that I can try to fix it. I made this mess myself.) That's partly why I am starting up this blog, even if nobody sees it. I am going to post thoughts and get back into the habit, and hopefully as I jolt and lurch along, the cogs will eventually regain their smooth rotation.

I dwell in Possibility.