It's Getting Cold, Fall Into Our Pot

We all, as Jenn mention, if it's cold, we can freeze together. I can tell you the weather is getting cold and this is when I seem to do most of my writing. Locked indoors due to imclement weather stir the imagination causing ideas and stories to pour out into the pot.
How about you? Does your pot fill up with stories as the leaves change and the temperature drops? How about you climb in the pot with us, we can all heat together.
So have faith, try this ideas with us. We have faith. Michael Douglas is still alive and so is our idea. Send your stories to us. Let's simmer to a boil....

Words mean more than what is set down on paper.

Maybe Richie is right. Maybe this blog is dying of cancer.

The whole point of a blog is to write, right? We wake up one morning and decide that we want to leave something behind. We want someone to remember us. We want our words to be passed down from generation to generation, a worn-out tattered copy of our stories handed from father to son and son to daughter. We want the world listening to our music and screaming our names when we get up on stage every night, for as many nights as that’ll last. The only problem is finding someone to leave everything to. Who cares enough to carry the book everywhere? To still play our records once the newest fad has started to play on the radio?

It is up to you, dear reader – if you’re even out there – to care. I am leaving you in charge of my sick body. And it is up to you to make sure every word I have imprinted on my skin makes it to the next life.

So, if you’re out there, somewhere in cyberspace, floating from useless social network to useless social network, remember that we’re not so different. Like you, I want someone to know that I existed. I want someone – I’ll settle for one person – to read my words and fall in love. And, if you’re not a writer, if the words don’t flow, fear not. I will be your voice. And if not me, Richie. And if not Richie, there will be someone else. A Hemingway or a Palahnuik. A Dennis Lehane or Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Someone will write your words. And when it happens, you’ll wonder how they knew. How could he know that you longed for the desert or a Cave of Swimmers? How could she know that you never understood the meaning of your name until you lost it?

Every day, millions of people fall in love with stories. Anecdotes from our professors or co-workers. The article in the paper or that story from Esquire. That new book we started reading last night before bed. Words mean more than anything. Without words, what would we have? Who would we be?

I’m asking you to take a leap of faith. I’m asking you to dive right in. Fuck testing the water. If it’s cold, we’ll, either, freeze together, or get warm. Fall in love with my words. Fall in love with your own. You never know. We could be soulmates.

Our Book vs. Michael Douglas

Well, my co-hort, Jenn has got to think about Michael Douglas. Seems poor Micheal is not on the lucky side of the coin, which I feel bad about, but has me thinking, "Is our idea of this book potentally on it's way out just like Ole Michael?" I personally hope not, but neither look good. Right now, I feel Ole Mike has a better chance than our book.
Nobody has shared a submission with us and our one and only follower has abandoned us for lack of activity on this blog. Where do we stand? Or are we on our backs in need of CPR? Do we need to be revived?
I realize what we have to do....blog on a more consistent basis. But will this really save our book idea? What we need is folks to share with us. It's so easy, people can have their voice heard, and if good, hopefully we can put in print, black and white, for all the world to see.
If you never tried writing maybe you should, there is nothing wrong in trying, Sometimes you never know what will fall out of your brain.
So if your pulling for Michael Douglas like we are, submit a short story, play, poem, essay we would love to share.

Why did you keep writing this book if you didn't even know what it was about?

Not knowing what to write has always been the problem. Which writer said he didn’t believe in writer’s block? Oh. That’s right. Michael Douglas in Wonder Boys. “She was a junkie for the printed word. And, lucky for me, I manufactured her drug of choice.” What do you think about movies about writers? Is it an accurate portrayal? Emma Thompson in Stranger Than Fiction. Douglas in Wonder Boys. Johnny Depp in Secret Window. Are they you? Me? Maybe. Maybe not.

It’s been a long time since I wrote in this thing. It’s been a not so long time since I sat down and wrote something. I’ve been writing in fragments lately and thoughts. Stories and half of stories and entries that read like words from a diary. This is how I feel and this is what I think about. Is that the stuff of novels?

Michael Douglas, that poor bastard, has cancer. That has nothing to do with writing. Unless you’re Patrick Swayze, in which case, you might start writing your autobiography now. When you’re gone, your words will remain.

You know what bothers me? Kindles and Nooks. Electronic reading devices. At this rate, my words will be found here and only here. The printed word will cease to exist and the future will never know the beauty of a book.

So, there you go. Writer’s block: Does it exist? Are you Michael Douglas? Are you Emma Thompson? Do you know how to kill Harold Crick? Have you been writing anything lately? Will you leave any words behind? And, last, but most definitely not least, will you fall victim to the electronic age or will you keep your Barnes and Noble, Shakespeare & Co., Strands, and indie bookstores alive?

Editing & The Masses

Well, I have to admit, I have written a story that needs editing. I abhor editing. To me, going over a story reaffirms to me that maybe I should not be writing, even though I cannot stop. It's like Jen said in her previous post, it's just what she does. Me, it's also what I do.
I took a writing class where a professor (whom I admire) stated the best part of writing is the editing. It's where you really get a chance to "shape" your story. I think my eyes were bulging out of my head and my jaw was on the desk. This statement made me ask, "am I weird?" Why do I hate it so much. Maybe part of me has not gotten past the point where I feel once I write something, I've written it(aren't I full of myself). Maybe I'm lazy. Tell me what do you think? Do you like editing? Am I crazy or lazy?
That being said, seriously let us know what you think. We would love to start some input. Maybe you'll enjoy the blogversation so much, you'll want to be a follower. Some c'mon masses, say something!
Well, thank you for letting me vent.
--rich

My Tyler Durden: Writing for the sake of writing

From the looks of it, this blog is suffering. Potential causes of death include: neglect and writer’s block. We’re supposed to be writing about writing. But how can we write about writing when we’re (mostly me) not writing? I feel like Hank Moody. Yes, I’ve been watching Californication. Instead of writing, I watch TV. Instead of writing, I read the Sookie Stackhouse Series and wonder how I got sucked into the world of vampires named Bill and Eric. I didn’t want to be one of those True Blood people. I made fun of those True Blood people. But then, well, all one has to do, really, is look at Alexander Skarsgard, and realize that life before that beautiful piece of meat was not much of a life at all. But I digress…this still isn’t me writing about writing. It’s just me writing. And, I think that’s what a blog is supposed to be about, right? Writing for the sake of writing? Writing for the sake of Julia Child and X amount of recipes in 365 days.

The other day, sitting in my yard, Sookie Stackhouse Book Number 2 in hand, I decided that I’d write a story about vampires. After finishing Book 2, I decided that the last thing I ever wanted to do was write a story about vampires. What’s so special about them anyway? Better yet, what’s so special about all of those Twilight people? I know, I know. This is starting to sound like one of those True Blood fans VS Twilight fans debates. But, I promise, dear readers (if anyone’s reading), it is not. I’m guilty. I’ve read the Twilight series. I’d take Harry Potter any day, but we’ll save Harry for later (maybe another day). But the movies? Come on. They’re awful. Beyond awful. I can’t say that the books are life changing. They’re not. But, there’s something about quick, trashy, summer reads that I’ve always liked. However, those trashy summer reads shouldn’t always be made into movies. Especially, when the actors in said movies leave me wondering where all the Paul Newman’s and Robert Redford’s have gone.

What is this? A blog about movies and Robert Pattinson’s god-awful acting or is this a blog for writers? Obviously, it’s about the god-awful acting. No. No. I take it back. Let’s try to stay on point this time.

I’d never write a story about vampires. I’d never write a story about werewolves either. There’s too much pressure when it comes to sci-fi and fantasy. I mean, you’re responsible for creating this world, and…what happens when no one wants to be a part of your world? Do you go back to writing trashy romance novels? Are those easier to pen…type? And which is better? The keyboard or the pen? The typewriter or the laptop? Do you write in pen or pencil? Do you listen to music? Do you search for the perfect song?

I like the keyboard. But then again, I also like the pen. Music is important. The song makes all the difference. Right now, Ryan Bingham and I are wondering where we can find a place for the weary kind. Music is good inspiration.

But, back to the vampires and trashy romance novels… Most of the time, I write about addicts. I’m not an addict. Not by any means. But, I write about these self-destructive male addicts. First person narration. These guys are royal fuck-ups. I blame Chuck Palahnuik. Do you like Chuck Palahnuik? Would you say he’s a decent writer? The voice of some generation? Or, would you say that Chuck Palahnuik writes, essentially, the same novel over and over again? Does each of his characters have a little narrator or Tyler Durden in them?

Speaking of Tyler Durden, do you think there’s a little Tyler Durden in all of us? My Tyler Durden writes daily. He wakes up at a decent hour and writes for, at least, two hours. The words just flow. He can’t help himself. My Tyler Durden doesn’t hate group workshops as much as me. He respects the opinions of others and takes criticisms rather well. My Tyler Durden looks exactly like Brad Pitt, even though Brad and I look nothing alike… even though I’m female. Maybe my Tyler Durden should look like Angelina Jolie.

Robert Pattinson. Brad Pitt. Angelina Jolie. Where would we be without our beloved celebrities? Where would we be without this pop culture? Is pop culture American culture? I can’t help but think so. We’re all Andy Warhol. Everyone wants their 15 minutes. Is this blog mine?

I Write. What do you do? (Introducing Ourselves: Part Two)

Hello bloggers. Hello readers. Jenn here, the other half of BarLaG Publishing. This is my introduction. My “Who Am I” essay dedicated to the blog-verse.

I don’t remember when it started. This passion for words. I can’t even explain why I like writing so much. As of late, my writing has become nonexistent. I’d like to blame school. Writing for a teacher kills writing for yourself. But school has been out for about a month now, and I still haven’t written anything. Extreme writer’s block. Except, I’m writing now. Writing about myself. Or, I’m supposed to be writing about myself. Myself and writing. We come together. A pair. A combo deal. A cheeseburger and fries. Microsoft Word has been telling me for the past six or so sentences that there are fragments that I should consider revising. There’s fact number one: I write in fragments. I like fragments. Short sentences are my thing. And sometimes, others like them, too. They say it’s my style. They being the fifteen to eighteen people in a workshop. They like the short sentences. The flow of the words. It’s choppy, but it works. Work. Fact number two: If I don’t become a writer, I don’t know what I’ll do. Maybe teach? Most writers teach. I hate working for the summer. Clerical work - filing, shredding, phone calls, and a front desk - is not my ideal summer. I’d rather sit in my yard and tan. Fact number three: I’m big on tanning. The sun. Summer. Fact number four: I was born on July 4th. Independence Day baby. Did you know that Microsoft Word considers “Independence Day baby” a fragment?

I want to be a writer. I am a writer. It takes guts to say that. I am a writer. Not, I want to be a writer, or, I will be a writer, but I am a writer. And I am. Even when I’m not writing. When the words are just stuck in space waiting for me to get to the moon. I am a writer. I don’t want to be a lawyer. Don’t wanna be a doctor. No. I hate math and science. I’d rather read. Give me Hunter S. Thompson any day. Every day.

I write. What do you do?