In and Out

Ever since my computer crashed, the truth is I haven't really had a chance to continue the work on my stories. I have a few manic habits, like constantly displaying my oral fixation in public by using a pen as a cigarette; another is continually pressing Alt, T, W, Ctrl-S when I am typing.

It comes from writing news stories and going for a certain word count, and backing up just in case the shitty computer system at Chronicle went down. When my computer crashed, I lost access to MS Word which means that when I type in WordPad, I can't do my routine. Which is pretty fucking distressing to me, like not having a pen in my hand, or not having sex. Fuck you, Javin.

Switching between literary writing and this nebulous, whorish thing I do called editorial consulting is not easy. With literary writing you have to let yourself go, hear this music in your head, whether its "Gotterdammerung" or "Lose Yourself", and you betta neva let it go. With literary writing you get those eureka moments when you find the right phrase or plot twist which cause you to start whooping and hollering as if you're in the middle of a Lynyrd Skynyrd concert and "Free Bird" finally comes on so the next morning your landlady gives you this look that says "I know you been tapping some ass last night, you better clean my walls, and don't flush no condoms down the damn toilet".

Editorial consulting is like drudging through a swamp of words and emerging at the end to claim your prize - a paycheque. Not that I hate it. I like words. I love words. I adore words. I make love to words. I touch words inappropriately in public places.

Going in and out of each mode however remains for me a tedious thing.