H
hmmnmm
Guest
I've wondered about this for awhile. The first few times I thought it a mere curiosity and gave it little further thought. But I've noticed that it happens too consistently often to be a simple coincidence. Now that I know it happens this way, fine, but the WHY remains unsolved.
It goes something like this:
Sit down at the table, open the notebook, sit and let the mind wander - look out the window, stare at the wall, scribble and scratch on the notebook. Eventually, something - a visual, a sound, a sensation, an idea, a pair of words - something begins to appear workable. Ah! This, and this, and this. No, scratch that. That. Not that word - what's a better word? what is The Word? And so on. Eventually the words on the page have a rough form or shape or something. Go to the computer. Tinker some more. Tinker, tinker, tinker. Delete, replace, rearrange words and lines. Back off for a few hours. The idea comes. Back to the computer or the paper. More tinkering. Finally, you look at the result of a lengthy labor and say, "that ain't bad. Not bad at all." Then you say, "what now? Ah! Literotica has an easy submission system." So you submit the piece, dust off your hands, and go about the rest of your day.
When all of a sudden...
From out of nowhere come a pair or trio of words or a line or a vision, or a feeling. You grab the notebook, jot it down, type it out, a few quick on-the-spot revisions. And it's done. You think, 'hmm, it's okay but nothing really spectacular. but I'll just throw it in the Lit submission page anyway and... whatever."
Of course you know where this going: the second one, the toss-off, the jot-down connects and resonates and induces unexpected positive notice. While the first, the one you spent hours or days in a pleasurable quandary with, might get a "okay, not bad, so so, but..." if it connects at all.
Wonder why it happens like this?
Maybe because what you thought was the poem was really a clearing away of brush and dead grass and leaves, so the real one could appear? You think?
It goes something like this:
Sit down at the table, open the notebook, sit and let the mind wander - look out the window, stare at the wall, scribble and scratch on the notebook. Eventually, something - a visual, a sound, a sensation, an idea, a pair of words - something begins to appear workable. Ah! This, and this, and this. No, scratch that. That. Not that word - what's a better word? what is The Word? And so on. Eventually the words on the page have a rough form or shape or something. Go to the computer. Tinker some more. Tinker, tinker, tinker. Delete, replace, rearrange words and lines. Back off for a few hours. The idea comes. Back to the computer or the paper. More tinkering. Finally, you look at the result of a lengthy labor and say, "that ain't bad. Not bad at all." Then you say, "what now? Ah! Literotica has an easy submission system." So you submit the piece, dust off your hands, and go about the rest of your day.
When all of a sudden...
From out of nowhere come a pair or trio of words or a line or a vision, or a feeling. You grab the notebook, jot it down, type it out, a few quick on-the-spot revisions. And it's done. You think, 'hmm, it's okay but nothing really spectacular. but I'll just throw it in the Lit submission page anyway and... whatever."
Of course you know where this going: the second one, the toss-off, the jot-down connects and resonates and induces unexpected positive notice. While the first, the one you spent hours or days in a pleasurable quandary with, might get a "okay, not bad, so so, but..." if it connects at all.
Wonder why it happens like this?
Maybe because what you thought was the poem was really a clearing away of brush and dead grass and leaves, so the real one could appear? You think?
