Posts Tagged ‘jen’

What I wish about when I wish about writing

November 15, 2008

Since we’re writing a blog about how we don’t write (or design, or draw, or paint, or wash dishes, or fack) enough, I guess we should tell you what we wish we were doing more of. Maybe Erin already said her piece, I don’t have the attention span to read our own blog though, so pardon my redundancy.

I wish I wrote more novels. Wait! Correction! I wish I wrote more OF my novels. As in, I wish I didn’t write 80 percent of a novel in three weeks and then decide it’s total crap and abandon it to fester til eternity on my hard drive, then start a new one, and, RINSE AND REPEAT. I mean, what kind of dinkus has FOUR 80 percent finished novels on her hard drive? Hello? Anyone? I crave bad company here.

Are we setting goals? My goal is to write 1000 words a day on my novel. In the best of times, hopped up on no less than three bars of 82 percent cacao chocolate and lots of green tea, this would take me thirty minutes. In the worst of times it would take me seven months (yes,this is how long it’s been since I write anything on my latest novel).

I have to start the implementation of this goal on Saturday, because tonight I’m going to the Milk red carpet premiere with Erin, Michelle, and Michael. Our seats are six rows from Sean Penn’s seat. Naturally we’ve done nothing ALL DAY but email each other about what to wear. Verdict? Michelle is wearing a leather bra and her best stripper boots. Erin is wearing her marvelous new shoes she got on the Innernet and her Fonzie jacket, I’m wearing my diamond and bratwurst bustiere and new silver Paolo’s I got for a song yesterday at Nordy Rack, and Michael is wearing Sean Penn on his face. Oh my, just kidding! Don’t be jealous Brian Wilson! And if you’re wondering whether the omission of any lower body garments was an accident–it wasn’t. Running around Portland red carpet premieres in nothing but a leather bra and your wunderpants is the new black.

Hey, so wait, can we write dirty things about Michael and Sean Penn on this blog? Is that kosher? Is it kosher to say kosher? Sorry!

Should we have code names? Mine is Twat.

PS: I also want to run 1000 feet a day. I haven’t run since Paige broke her leg. I can’t run alone. Should running 1000 feet a day alone also be on my wish to do more of list? Am I overwhelming myself? Does this violate the principal of ‘baby steps?’

I’ll ponder this later, right now I’m busy tearing into my regularly schedule 4 pm Vosges bar.

Peace out,



Procrastinating Creative Pooballs, Unite!

November 13, 2008

Hi. It’s a miracle you are reading this. Or maybe it isn’t. See, my friend Erin and I were sitting downtown, eating lunch (a cheese plate and tomato basil tart and three bean soup if you care about details like that) and lamenting our own demented procrastinatory creative nature, which is keeping us from being The Next Big Thing, or at least from even finishing a)our websites, b)our portfolios, c)our novel, d)our dishes, and we thought to ourselves, we bet this is bigger than the two of us. We bet the world is teeming with frustrated procrastinating, filthy-sink perpetuating creatives who need a support group. So here we are. TheReluctantCreative. It’s us, it might be you, it could be your neighbor or that weird guy you always see at Coffeehouse Northwest picking at the bricks and talking to himself.

How does this work? Beats us! We haven’t thought past the “start a blog for people like us” part. See that’s part of the reluctant creative’s MO–get super excited about a great project, work on it for 10 seconds/minutes/hours/days, then dump it like a hot rock for the next best thing, like checking our Facebook friends requests or making a ham sandwich (me, not Erin, she doesn’t eat ham!).

We’re thinking that if we start a dialogue of sorts between frustrated procrastinatory creatives like ourselves, we can motivate each other with encouragement, collaboration, constructive criticism, threats both veiled and overt, and shame.

We hope you join us. Tell us your story, send us some work, offer up your opinions, write a sentence or two confessing what a procrastinating piece of creative pooball on the shoe of mankind you are. It’s therapeutic. We feel better already. You will too. What if this helped us all actually finish our big Creative Dream, or get started, or just get off for a minute?