Stuff My Brain Says #48

You know, the debates are way overrated. The moderators are "esteemed members of the press" and not REAL debate moderators. These folks are "owned" by the entertainment industry and their focus is ratings - not news. They thrive on conflict, because conflict increases viewership - and viewership, through advertising dollars, pays the bills. 

What is needed are REAL debate moderators. You know, the ones that moderate debate clubs in high schools and colleges. Sure, bias will still be an issue, but have you ever watched one of those debates? They are time sticklers. They don't allow people to have open, interrupting-each-other arguments. There are rules that have to be followed, or time is deducted, as well as points. 

When they finally get around to leaving these media bozos out of the debates and bring in REAL moderators I'll watch. Until then? There are always old "Cheers" episodes on Netflix . . .

© Emittravel 2012

The Wall

For me, one of the difficult aspects of writing a blog is finishing what was started. Creative writing has been my shtick for a good many years. I've posted a few poems to this blog to share some of that with you. When I've written poetry, I find that I have to complete the poem in one session. I can't start it and come back to it later. The mood has changed. The muse has taken me in a different direction.

Writing a blog seems to have the same process for me. I've got a "stack" of blog topics in the queue. I've got some as titles only. Others have a list of concepts to hopefully jog my memory. And others have been started but, due to extenuating circumstances, have been left to finish later. This means the queue is getting bigger - the fear of running out of blog topics is hardly an issue.

So now I'm trying to capture the mood, the frame of mind, the energy, of a particular topic. And it is difficult. It has a great start, but is dying on the vine. And I want to finish it. I really do. The working title is "Cliché Christianity", and I stopped writing with a single reminder note: "God Moments". What the heck does THAT mean? What was the approximately three pounds of computer above my shoulders wanting to share? How do I recapture that?

What about you? I'd like to think that I'm not alone here. For those of you writing the "Great American Novel" - how do you write over a period of YEARS? And more importantly, what do you do to get that muse?

© Emittravel 2012

Stuff My Brain Says #47

While at a local restaurant I viewed a table of six, where a mother took her baby, covered him with a small blanket, and breast fed him. Now, this doesn't bother me in the least. As a matter of fact, any man who says he IS bothered, is simply masking his jealousy of the baby.

Now, being someone who can't leave well enough alone, I approached the table (after she was finished) and said, "My mom fed me the same way when I was an infant. Problem was, it took me to about 2nd grade before I could eat without a blanket over my head."

The whole table broke out in laughter. Score.

© Emittravel 2012

The Chosen Exit

Title: The Chosen Exit

Scene: A small, one-car garage. The room is dark, but for the headlights of the running automobile that shine on the back wall. There is no dialogue; only the thoughts of the main character.

Tom: (sitting in lawn chair next to car - head in hands) Just one more breath. That's all I need. One more breath. What does she know anyway? She doesn't care. She thinks I'm useless. She says she wants more. He'll never satisfy her. He can't love her like I have. Someone stable - she says. Someone with a career - she says. Someone who completes what he starts. I'll show her. One more breath. Think I won't do it? Think I'll run away? I'm more of a man than he ever'll be. More of a man than you can handle. I don't need you Katy. Go on. Just get out of my life. My life. My...life. My life is nothing without you. Go on. You'll find me and wish like hell you'd have stayed. But it's too late. I can't take it anymore. This is one project I'm finishing. Yeah. You'd…be…proud…of me…Katy. Just...one...more...breathhh.....

Scene: A small, one-car garage. The room is dark, but for the fading headlights of the silent automobile.

J.P. Wiegand

This was my entry for the December 2004 Writer's Forum Challenge on www.renderosity.com. The theme for the challenge was to write a short script, or screen play, about people trapped in a confined space (elevator, room, coffin or some other). I guess I took the idea of "trapped" and pushed it out of its box to come up with this one. 

© Emittravel 2004