A terrible poem about my lack of poetical capabilities.

Should I just hit delete

and remove it from my sight?

Should I instead repeat

written failures of a previous night?

 

It’s quite contrary when jotting stuff,

its taxing on the brain,

quite frankly it’s real tough

to make this short textual presentation follow a cohesive rhyme scheme and stick within the boundaries of a competent iambic pentameter.

 

Nailed it.

 

Frankly, it’s all trial and error

with as much guesswork as is success,

so you can imagine to my terror

the idea of creating a jumbled, grammatical mess

 

I never did like poetry

and really, for good reason

I mean, what the fuck rhymes with “poetry”

other than that, it’s just never in season

 

At least as far as I can tell,

Poetical news is hardly my thing,

a channel on that, they do not sell,

it’s something they won’t bring

 

I don’t know where this is going

which is hardly a surprise,

The only purpose of this thing

was to openly self-criticize

 

Yes, I said I wanted to diversify

and that is what I shall do

However, as time flies by

I realize; “boo hoo,

 

I can’t be good at everything

and poetry is my Moriarty,

So to the table I must bring

something a tad less artsy-fartsy”

 

I haven’t bothered to count the syllables

This disaster was written ironically

I really have no principles

When it comes to poetic quality.

 

How does one end a poem?

This monstrosity that I’ve created?

Because I can’t think of a word that rhymes with poem.

Banana.

 

You’re welcome folks. I really need to do something more productive with my life. For the record, poetry is awesome, and the people who can do it are extremely talented; it’s just that I can’t, and am extremely bitter about it as a direct result.

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On the value of inspiration, working on multiple things and completely unrealistic goal-setting.

So, a couple of days ago, I did something rather silly.

This is hardly unusual for me – I do stupid shit all the time – yet on this occasion it really got me thinking. When I announced that I was setting myself a goal to try and complete my book by the end of the month after well over a  year of not completing my book, I was all fired up; ready to go all NaNoWriMo on that thing and nail it.

Until I booted up the word file again.

It’s funny, the last time I was blogging, I was just starting the project. Having re-read a bunch of my old posts recently, I’ve come to the conclusion that I should just start a new one, as I feel my old comments and stuff don’t really represent me anymore. I was a different person, at a very different time in my life. I didn’t have a beard for a start. What the hell.

To digress, loading up that word file and skimming over a whole array of the narrative, it became pretty clear to me that it was a completely mixed bag. At the risk of sounding pretentious – which I always do anyway because of my bloody generic British accent – there are some passages and jokes that I’m genuinely really proud of, and that I think could work perhaps as sketches or short stories in their own right.

And then there’s the drivel.

My god, it’s so easy to see where I wrote because I had a surge of inspiration, and where I wrote because I thought, “I want to be a writer, I have to just power through this.” Whole sections of my book, mostly in parts I’ve constructed fairly recently, serve no real purpose to the narrative, have no real clever humor behind them, and serve only to artificially inflate the relatively low word count. I literally wrote about a very well-spoken man-bear-thing being summoned accidentally by a bunch of heavily welsh accented druids to fight an incoming invasion of the undead.

Hmm, make of that what you will, I’m not sure it would survive a hypothetical second draft.

So, yeah, declaring happily over Facebook that I was capable of finishing this thing in a matter of days/weeks was probably not my finest hour. Plus, it was mid-way through February, the shortest month. I didn’t even have the luxury of it being a leap year. What a deadline.

However, by setting myself that goal, I made myself want to keep on trying, to keep on writing. I know fully well what I want my career to be, regardless of the gamble involved. And there, I think, is the value of setting yourself an unrealistic goal. By saying, “I want to do this thing!” despite the potential odds against, there’s still that drive there, that compulsion to not let others, or in a lot of cases, yourself, down.

It applies to a whole array of things too, particularly within the arts. The best advice I’ve ever heard regarding trying to accomplish something is to never just talk about oneself as an “aspiring” artist, film-maker, writer or whatever. “Aspiring,” really doesn’t mean anything in the long run, the same way that saying “I desire a mars bar,” wouldn’t magically make a mars bar fall from the sky into your hands, as magical and amazing as that would be. It’s a case of actually going out and owning it, and being able to say, “I’m a writer/musician/animator”, or whatever it is that you want to be.

Hence the re-start of my blog. I’m diversifying myself, not giving myself tunnel vision anymore by blindly focusing on one thing that may or may not ever actually work. I guess I’m also trying to give out the message that if anybody feels demotivated or uninspired regarding their aspirations, it’s worth taking a step back and trying to approach the same goal from a different angle before burnout occurs. If you know you want to accomplish or become something then never, ever give up. It can take time, years even, but you’ll nail it.

So, whilst it may be curtains for my comic fantasy novel, whether it be a temporary or permanent hiatus, rest assured I’m still going to keep writing.

I’m a writer, it’s what I do.