Writer's Corner

I’ve written myself into a corner and the smell of my burning brain is putrid.

(Clock rollback time)

Without the marvel of a lit cigarette in an ashtray simultaneously racing the smoke from the one dangling from my mouth to the ceiling, both pacifiers serving me well as indulgent crutches for more than fifteen years.

Today, my room’s lack of odor has no prevalence; it’s nothing more than a space with a corner. Nothing stale to stimulate the senses, nothing sweet, no bread or wine, and it’s far too early in the day for my wine replacement – a single malt scotch. Perhaps… some salami and cheese… no, can’t do it… she’s got me on a diet. Strawberries, blueberries, and mango sound so delightful, only if they’re toppings on a banana split ice-cream sundae.

But, this is not to be since these ultra-fine ingredients have found a temporary residence at the base of a very minor, individual serving of Yoplait. The carton’s contents are inhaled and, while I do feel somewhat pleased with my ability to have served myself without her help, I still remain vacant without a creative thought to share.

They say sleep deprivation will cause hallucinations.

I know! I’ll stay awake for three days. Sitting in one place for 72 hours will certainly conjure up the characters and devilish plot I’ve been hunting for: crazy people who kill other crazy people just for the mere joy of killing crazy people.

That stinks… Just not good writing is it?

Besides, I’ve tried staying up before; it doesn’t work for me. I fall asleep almost immediately and begin dreaming about this writer with writer’s block who concocts a plan to stay up for three days in order to hallucinate enough to create some characters worthwhile to kill.

I awake almost completely refreshed and raring to go.

Formula: Please choose one of the following.

1.         I hasten

(I don’t hasten)

2.         I jog

(Not indoors)

3.         I bound

(Only the Brits bound)

4.         In a flash

(I never flash)

Now you’re stuck for words, aren’t you? It’s not easy being a writer is it?

Do you have any sympathy for me or, are you like the people who say, “You made your bed, now lie in it?”

Here I am, seated before my trusty word processor. My ass is beginning to hurt beyond belief. I definitely have writer’s cramp but it’s in the wrong place. Maybe, if I stand I’ll be more creative than when I sit. The pain in my butt is dissipating but standing doesn’t help me with plot development.

What would Stephen King do in my place?

That’s it, Stephen King. I just finished reading his book “On Writing.”

Think Harv, think. What would Stephen King do in my place? Wait a minute. I’m not even close to being Stephen King. He’s possibly the most brilliant fiction writer I know. The audacity of me thinking I could do what he does...

Hold on now, the word audacity… King has audacity… why can’t I have some as well?

Ah ha! Now I’m on to something.

Stephen King said not to be Stephen King, or anyone else for that matter. Damn, it’s just like voice over or any other subjective art form. Forget about Stephen King. I’m sure there are people who think of him as a hack anyway. Well, maybe not a hack. Besides, he suggests taking a walk every day – an idea I can live with.

Of course, I must remember to be careful out there. On Stephen King’s last walk he was nearly killed after being hit by a car… On second thought, let’s save the walk for another time. Besides, there are ideas popping in my mind’s eye.

The word audacity remains right there in front of me. All the audacious characters I’ve met or read about in my lifetime come to me. The brazenness of those who succeed, seemingly at whatever they attempt to accomplish, haunt my thoughts.

I’ll write about men and women who operate with great chutzpa.

But where will I find the audacious explorers of the past and present – from our country and around the world?

“Houston, we have a problem!” Most of the explorers I’ve read about managed to discover something because they were lost.

“Lost and Audacious” sounds like some of our elected officials or a legal firm.

A Hurriedly Compiled List Of Helpful Word Supplements…

1.         Audaciousness

2.         Effrontery

3.         Brashness

4.         Brass

5.         Brassiness

6.         Cheek

7.         Cheekiness

8.         Chutzpah (also chutzpah or chutzpah)

9.         Crust

10.         Face

11.         Gall

12.         Nerve

13.         Nerviness

14.         Pertness

15.         Presumption (presumptuousness)

16.         Sauce

17.         Sauciness

18.         Temerity

Wait a second, aren’t these the same words we use in our voice over classes as an attitude cultivation tool? I wonder if there is a similarity between the two crafts: reading and writing?

Now comes a flicker of light. Both crafts require feelings and emotions, often at the very same time. Again my friend (we’ve never met but anyone who helps or offers to help me becomes my friend) Stephen King’s words enter my mind’s eye. “Read as much as you can as often as you can,” he advises. Many of the more renowned acting coaches advise us to keep doing, keep practicing our craft. Keep reading, writing, forever doing, assembling words and feelings, often as recklessly as they enter our comprehension or lack of it. Don’t aim at a target – feel and shoot. Take whatever list of words you’ve compiled and go free form.

I began in my writer’s corner with seemingly nothing to say. I took my walk and thought of solutions to my problem. Amazingly, my Stephen-King-inspired walk helped me with my barren brain deficits and, at the same time, lessened the pain in my butt.

By sharing with you what I had learned from a great writer, I have eased the burden of a burning brain.

Let’s see now, where was I?

There was this group of crazy people trying to get out of the United States. Another crazy guy, who wasn’t part of their group, came upon them. The leader of the crazy group told the single crazy guy he wasn’t welcome to join them because he was obviously crazier than they were. The single crazy guy was quite offended, to say the least. He brandished a pistol from inside his Speedo-turned-underwear and shot them all dead. He then shot himself in the head. The End.

That wasn’t very good was it?

I’ll be going back into my corner now.

Perhaps, I’ll write about the outcome of the presidential election. On second thought, I better not. I wouldn’t want to offend some crazy out there who might not agree with me. Make no mistake – I know there are a couple of them in existence. I can tell who they are. They’re the ones who write to me and don’t have the courage to sign their names.

As a matter of fact, they were the inspiration to my story about this group of crazies who were trying to get out of the United States.