Thursday, October 1, 2015
I have returned to the fray of 30/30. I am here struggling to get down the beginning of the chapter and there are so many words.
This is, the chief problem of much writing you know. Too many words. Writing feels a little worse than sculpture at times because while a sculptor may cut away all that is not part of the finished piece, a writer is usually responsible for making the initial block too damned big.
At any rate, today I am starting on an adventure in writing. Last year, Hugo House began a campaign called 30/30. A the time I was under the impression it involved a Winchester rifle, but my illustrator and dogsbody, David Mecklenburg, assured me that it was "an initiative to write for 30 minutes every day for 30 days."
After I told him he was a hopeless, bureaucratic buffoon for actually using a word like "initiative" in real life, I agreed to the concept because as he will gladly tell you, it's very difficult for me to shut up. Whether it is peanut M&M's, Imogen Heap's music, Anne Carson's poetry or that old rascal Plato, I have many varied opinions on things and adventures so numerous David is still struggling to catalogue just the first quarter of them.
This year is no different Richard Hugo House is once again in need of your support.
Well, there is one difference: I am not feeling the need to discuss writing as I did in the posts last year. I often suspect that writing about writing, while a form of commiseration is also one of the most patently boring subjects non-writers endure. Instead, one should write about dragons, handsome men, international intrigue, crimes of passion and greed, riches, or at least the hardscrabble life in _____(dreary heartland of your choice, but you might as well make it a flat arid place).
Pondering how I put words on the page and making you endure it is a form of sadism that allows no spice for the masochist.
Rather, I will simply write and see what happens.
By donating you will help out the premier literary organization in the Northwest, which— considering you can't throw a poet without hitting a writer here—is obviously a "resource center" (to use David's banal term for it) in high demand.
And as I like to point out, quantifying the value of art is like counting the blue in the sky. I suppose you could it, but why?
Instead, you should head over my First Giving Page and donate.
(And this counts for my first 30 minutes!)