What do I do when I finish a post? (This one will be No. 728.)
I exhale.
And then I experience this awesome pre-rush rollercoaster of adrenaline throughout my entire body that I’m going to do it all over again.
Some of my posts are in draft form, they sit and intricately marinate just in case I want to change things around at a later date. Others are written and published within hours.
But regardless of their place in the queue, I write every day. When a post will be published I never know. Unless it’s of such a current nature that to hold it back would be a disservice to the readers. Yet, if that happens, I get this annoying, itching compulsion to keep it out of cyberspace.
Part of my skill or style is not to jump on the “seconds to live” bandwagon and stay in the present all the time. It’s a controlled spasm I’ve conquered. It seems that I have mastered the ability to manage that erotic compulsion thus allowing me to hold it in rather than to blast out an immediate release of a post – regardless of timeliness.
So, back to question numero uno, what do I do when I complete a post – vide supra.
And then it’s back to work scraping the brain cells of my imagination. It may be an idea that comes out of the blue, a gestating complex of swirling thoughts, or a single notion that is brought to my attention by an article, a vivid personality, a book, a single word, a discordant note or a period of silence from so many hiding places that are always nearby.
I will gather them up and pick and choose and thus begin the process of sculpting the invisible into a malleable form of editorial copy that wondrously appears upon the screen or on paper (one of my favorite feelings – the tactile sensation of a pen or pencil scratching across micro-milled paper).
I mentally absorb the solidifying mixture and begin to mold it into several hundred words that somehow are taken to completion. Keep in mind that Jazz trumpeter Miles Davis practiced his horn daily, John Coltrane played his sax for hours, Buddy Rich hit the skins more than any man on earth. Legends all. Mixed metaphors, perhaps. Forgive me. But the intensity is the key.
So I write and I write and I write and I write and I write and I write and I write – trying to intimately comprehend every subtle nuance of each word I use so that I am able to compose each sentence to flow like honey from Winnie the Pooh’s favorite beehive.
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Writing is one of the greatest feelings on Earth and I defy anyone to dispute it. The virtual act of creating something out of nothing is haunting. Honing, refining, and polishing an idea that never existed before I seized it, places me in pure rapture. And, then . . . over time, once all the proper words are in place and the final copy is staring me in the face – an articulate post by the very act of my persistent, tenacious will is published.
IrvCigarBroker 